


The Dark Knight and the Boy Scout

by Ortholeine



Series: The Dark Knight and the Boy Scout Universe [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Animated Universe, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Batman has issues, Character Study, F/F, F/M, Hedgehogs, Hinted at Mental Health issues, M/M, Rule 63, You Have Been Warned, almost all the Batfamily will be genderbent, batfamily, enchanced hedgehogs, end game is superbat though, female!bruce wayne - Freeform, gendergend, more tags will be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2018-09-17 12:45:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9324197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ortholeine/pseuds/Ortholeine
Summary: “I can say without a doubt that there are an infinite number of universes. Some are just like our own…but for one or two significant events, exactly the same.” Lex Luthor (Injustice: Gods Amongst Us)This universe is one where very few events have changed from the prime reality. More things were flopped rather than actually changed. Martha and Thomas Wayne had not a Bruce but a Breanna Wayne. Breanna still lost her parents in Crime Alley at the age of 8, Alfred Pennyworth was (and is) still a badass who raised her and taught her almost everything he knows. Clark Kent is still Superman, and Gotham still has its Dark Knight and its Clown Prince of Crime.Having fully come into both her identity as Breanna Wayne, sole heiress of the Wayne fortune and CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and as Batwoman, the costumed hero who patrolled the streets and skies of Gotham, it is time for a change. Things are about to change, and events are about to be set in motion that will shake the Wayne household’s foundation (hopefully not too literally).





	1. Prologue 1: Crime Alley

As the family of three exited the theatre, Breanna Wayne found her fear slowly melting away in the cool night air. She lead the way in front of her parents as they walked onto Park Row. It was lit for the most part, with a small stretch of inky dark shadows crawling towards the streetlamp at the end, where the road met up again with the small lane.

“Did you enjoy the picture after all, dear?” Her father called out to her. They had left shortly after the intermission, the young Wayne child frightened by the play.

Breanna turned around and grinned. Her dress was a miniature version of her mother’s, all dark blue and sparkling, with a light coat on top. One could imagine the glitter on the skirt and bodice swirled to look like stars and streams in the night sky, but someone who had not left Gotham in some time would not recognize the night sky without the smog and orange glow it seemed to permanently possess.

“It’s not so scary now! Now I want to be just like Zorro,” the young girl said as she waved the crumpled program like a sword. “But a girl Zorro!” Her own sound effects and murmured narration told the tale of a brave swordswoman, fighting off villains left and right, all while wearing a dark mask. She jabbed, taking one step forward, and whirled, throwing her arms out in an elegant parry.

Martha laughed and leaned closer to her husband. Both had brown eyes, but where Thomas had dark brown hair Martha had golden brown. Neither of them was entirely sure where Breanna got the blue eyes and black hair from.

“I think that Breanna may want to exchange her horse lessons for fencing classes.”

Thomas Wayne laughed, watching his daughter jump a few feet in front of them. His heart panged at the thought of Breanna growing up.

“I think so. Maybe when she older, say…30?”

“Dad!” Breanna protested, glancing back with a pout on her lips that lasted for only a moment.

“Dad! What if I did _both_? Both horse riding lessons and fencing!”

He laughed again as Martha chuckled, shaking his head. Martha glanced at him and pressed his arm. They shared a look before he sighed.

“That’s an awful lot of time not spent on school work or play. We’ll talk about it when we get home,” he trailed off slowly, his eyes locked on something above Breanna’s head.

She whirled around, fear stabbing her heart in a way it hadn’t reached, even sitting in that dark theatre. A figure in shadows stepped forward and the sound that echoed in her small mind was unmistakable as that of a gun cocking.

“Nice night out, ain’t it?” The man asked. There was something slimy and terror-inducing in his voice, Breanna thought. She clenched the program in both hands against her chest

“It is a nice night,” Thomas said sternly but not unkind. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we’re just passing through.”

“Oh of course, no worries. I just require some sort of…payment,” the man leered. His face was mostly obscured by the hat he wore. Breanna found a part of her brain, removed from this unfolding horror, wondering why he was wearing a hat at night.

“How about them pearls?” He said, gesturing with the gun.

“Give me the necklace and nobody gets hurt, lady.”

Martha’s hands immediately went towards her neck, not to unclasp the pearls but to hover over them. Breanna’s eyes darted to her parents, stumbling back a few steps and running into the rough, brick wall.

“There’s no need for that,” Thomas said. He took a half-step forward, raising his hands.

“I can give you money instead and—”

“No!” The man with the gun shouted, his own hand beginning to shake.

Suddenly there was a loud bang and Breanna’s mother was screaming. Breanna turned around, taking a step back, and watched as her father fell to the ground.

Martha moved forward, to either catch her husband or protect her daughter Breanna would never know, and then all too soon Mrs. Wayne was falling as well. Breanna could only watch, petrified, as her mother’s pearls all seemed to roll as far away as possible. The running footsteps of the man—murderer—were muffled, distant. Breanna could not move, not when there was a kind young woman holding her, not when the police showed up and the rain started, not when the young officer James Gordon gave her his coat.

She didn’t move until she heard a familiar voice call her name.

“Alfred!” She cried out, turning and running to the butler. She crashed into him, sobbing for the first time that night, and not letting go even when he stood up with her in his arms. His face was gaunt and pale, and his eyes were stuck on the covered bodies even while his hands grabbed the child to his legs.

“If you have all the information you need from Miss Wayne, I believe I’ll be taking her back to the Manor.”

“Oh, oh of course Mr. Pennyworth. Here’s my number, I’m…I’m so sorry. I wish there was something we could have done.”

“You have nothing to apologize for Officer…?”

“Gordon. James Gordon. Let me know if I can do anything, please, me or my wife.”

“Me as well, Alfred.”

“Thank you both, Officer Gordon, Ms. Thompkins. It will…be a trying time.”

 

The drive back to the manner was all wrong to the British man. Normally one or both of the adult Wayne’s would sit in back with their daughter, laughter and quiet talking filling the car more than any music ever could. Alfred had her sit in the front seat this time, so as to keep an eye on her and remind himself that there was still a Wayne whom he was to take care of, and kept the radio turned off. There was no music, no talking, no sound but her crying. By now it had quieted to a shaking weep.

The butler glanced as his young charge, his heart tightening at the same time as his throat. He blinked away tears almost the entire drive, focusing on breathing and the road. There were a few moments where he almost could not stop himself from pulling to the side, but the soldier in him pushed onward, out of that wretched city.

He slowed the car on the gravel driveway, directly in front of the Manor’s front doors. He turned the keys in the ignition, the engine turning off, but couldn’t bring himself to pull the keys out fully or even get out of the car. Breanna’s renewed crying, louder now, pushed him out of his stupor. He breathed out a heavy breath of air and as he walked around the car looked up at the sky. He dragged open the car door and leaned down, gently coaxing the young girl into his arms. He walked into the Manor in a trance, the doors slamming shut in a crash behind them.


	2. Prologue Pt 2: Global Academy

At age 10 Breanna Wayne did not leave Alfred Pennyworth alone until he enrolled her in a private martial arts course. Two years had come and gone since her parent’s murder, with the police investigation deciding in the end that is was pure bad luck and not some malicious plot to end the kind and benevolent affect the Wayne family had on Gotham. Both Breanna and Alfred has spent the majority of those two years grieving.

She pushed herself to mastering all forms and styles of hand-to-hand combat known (at first the excuse was self0defense but after her first five months it quickly lost its effectiveness of a lie), also insisting on extra classes to supplement her until-then regular education. The butler did not bat an eye at her requests, even when the child simply soaked up all the information he could give her during her school hours. Breanna was focused, far more so than a child of ten and an orphan should have any right being. But, he had reasoned with himself, at least this drive to become something better and to be prepared for some dark inevitability was healthier than the potential decay into something less than human.

Homeschooling the orphan had been the best decision they could have made, as it allowed the young Wayne heir to adapt as slowly or quickly as she wanted to her new parentless life. According to her parent’s will, Alfred was her sole guardian and holder of her inheritance until she was 25. Some members of the Wayne Industries board had tried to contest that, but their greed was seen through and a grieving city quickly acted without mercy.

There were always bad days, of course, and certain anniversaries were worse than others. Birthdays, holidays, and other such formerly-family events earned a day spent mourning and going through photo albums followed by a week-long vacation to a place of her choosing. It was a bargain the two of them had struck—Alfred’s only requirements were that they went somewhere new every trip. Breanna did not protest. Soon she had finagled trips to every continent and insisted on learning everything she could about the places they visited, from history to culture to modern politics. She rarely interacted with others her age who were also in the same demographic.

From that young age, there were clearly two Breanna Wayne’s that Alfred knew. One was the girl who smiled and still liked flowers and pearls despite her trials in life. The girl who just wanted to help make the world a better place, but didn’t mind having others do the actual work for her when it came to being in public. The other Breanna Wayne was one who rarely smiled but enjoyed classic literature intended for someone far older than her. She preferred practicality and the guarantee of doing something yourself than anything else, and was as far from trusting as any child had a right to be. Alfred worried, but did not stop her.

By the time she was 15, Breanna had graduated from high school and was proficient in all forms of hand-to-hand combat that were possible to be learned without traveling through time. She had started puberty on a down day, a down week really. Alfred was calm throughout it all but could not replace the mother figure the young woman needed. And so entered Leslie Thompkins once again. The kind doctor was one of the many who had been close to the Wayne’s on a personal level, and so tried to spend as much time as she could with the butler and his charge. She was young and idealistic, but much of her naivete was lost the same night Breanna lost her world. So she taught Breanna basic medicine and first aid, and had her help in her free clinic, interacting with the people of Gotham not from behind a podium or flashing cameras but surrounded by wounds of all kinds and real world problems.

Online college courses at multiple universities, another four years, another few dozen countries, and three almost (four degrees later) Breanna Wayne was finally willing to fully re-enter the social scene that her family’s wealth demanded of her. Alfred had helped her keep her life fairly private, only surfacing for key anniversaries and charity events, such as those held for the Martha Wayne foundation. She did not fancy the “young and rich” life many others close to her age and who possessed similar fortunes seemed to enjoy, and was considered to be overly somber and serious by her peers.

And then she disappeared for two years, and not even Alfred knew where she was. He presented a calm façade and only Leslie aware of the truth (what little he did know; she was alive, and well, training in some far-off land). When she came back she was still two different people in the same body. One was the face she showed the public, enjoying some of the aspects of wealthy life that she had previously ignored. Hundreds of dates in just a few months but without embarrassing drunk moments or trips to either party’s residence had the press scratching their heads. But Alfred clearly saw it—as a woman in the spotlight, she could not afford to be selfish and indulged in everything she fancied, whether it was truly something she enjoyed or not, or else the reputation she was now trying to build would be weakened. In the privacy of Wayne Manor, she complained of the unfairness of society’s double standard concerning genders, and what her male companions could get away with that she could not.

The other persona was just as serious before, but no longer spent free time studying old authors and ways of the world. Rather, this Breanna Wayne now studied forensics and criminal psychology alongside the global economy and attended Wayne Enterprise meetings, learning everything about all of her employees from every janitor to each member of the Board of Directors. Alfred ignored the time she spent in the caverns under the Manor until he was one day invited to help her install a computer system of sorts.

It took some time, but soon Breanna had re-established herself as the working CEO of Wayne Industries, proving that her “fun times” with the other social elite did not interfere with her ability to be the upright business and philanthropist figure Gotham and the rest of the world desperately needed and wanted from her. By the time of her 21st birthday Breanna was in the news nearly as much as her parents had been prior to their death, for both good and suspicious things.

Lucius Fox, head of Wayne Tech’s Research and Development department, and Alfred Pennyworth, still the Wayne family butler, became even better friends as the young woman truly split her time between solely work, home, and play. However, a fourth category was about to be born and neither man knew just how involved they were going to end up until she finally convinced them both to be accomplices. Alfred was not surprised when the completed “Cave” beneath the Manor soon became one of the places he would most often find his still-young charge. Lucius was a frequent visitor, and soon became familiar with the Cave as well.


	3. Prologue pt 3: The Interview A

The public was, in general, not privy to her extensive education, as they merely knew her to be successful and skilled at her job as CEO, and as such few reporters and journalists bothered to learn about more than her social life and current charity project, and anything that had either her name or that of her business in the news. Because of that it was a bit of a shock to the young woman when her not-quite-annual interview with the Daily Planet—an exclusive interview they got at least once yearly because she had made the mistake of purchasing the media source—on the eve of her parent’s death’s anniversary was not with one of the many gossip article writers but the famed Lois Lane.

Her articles tended to be of a more serious nature, with a good portion being about the alien superhero who roamed her skies and protected Metropolis. The other majority of her writing was about sensitive or important topics that no one else seemed to have the guts to write about. She had won the Pulitzer for a reason, and was considered one of the best investigative journalists of their time, with no one except maybe Clark Kent or Iris West coming close. Lois Lane’s name was just as well-known as Breanna’s in some circles.

She was picked up from the Gotham Airport by a driver hired by Miss Wayne, and greeted at the door by Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne family’s butler. Once she was inside he lead the reporter through the foyer, down a hallway, and into a study.

Large windows framed by huge curtains let sunlight filter into and brighten the room. Walls made of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, an empty fireplace, and extremely comfortable looking furniture created an overall cozy environment. Above the mantle was a portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne, smiling lovingly with a gentle downward-look. Breanna had been sitting in the seat behind the large mahogany desk, typing away at a computer, but when her guests entered she stood, a soft smile gracing her face. She walked forward and shook Lois’ hand as Alfred backed out, murmuring something about afternoon tea, softly closing the door.

Even in small heels Lois was inches shorter than Breanna Wayne, who wore dark teal flats with a gold emblem on the toes. Her shoulder-length wavy black hair moved with her head as she turned towards a small sitting area.

“Hello, Ms. Lane. I hope your trip here was uneventful,” her voice was silvery; not in the suspicious way that most politicians or businessmen (like Lex Luthor) spoke, with an underlying hint towards malice or betrayal, but in the true definition of the word: clear, pleasant, and soft.

Her bright blue eyes were framed in simple black eyeliner done stylishly, a neutral color gloss was the only other tint on her face, and simple pearl stud earrings were the only jewelry other than a simple light brown leather watch that the heiress wore. A simple black turtleneck made of some sort of expensive fabric looked good, not old-fashioned, on her. Matching black jeans with the hems rolled once all made her outfit simple with an understated sense of fashion.

“Oh, it was,” Lane said with a grin.

“No Superman sighting?” Breanna joked, stepping back and gesturing towards the seats in front of the fireplace.

“No, thank heavens,” Lane took a seat first. “Seeing Superman almost always means being near some sort of danger.”

“I’m glad then that you didn’t see him,” Breanna took her own seat.

“Me too, believe me. I think I’ve seen enough of the Man of Steel to last me a life time.”

Breanna smiled, face tilting just barely.

“Oh? From the way your city idolizes him, and how some of your colleagues write, one would think he’s a pleasure to be around.”

“He’s a hero, simple as that. Not exactly of this world, if you catch my drift. It’s hard to be friends with someone who’s both an alien and such a huge figure. But it is nice to catch up without bullets or falling,” Lois said with a laugh.

Breanna grinned in agreement.

“Do you mind if I record everything from here on out?” Lois asked, bringing out an old-fashioned recorder and holding it out. Her demeanor had barely shifted, the reporter surfacing.

Breanna’s eyes widened minimally but she nodded.

“Go right ahead.”

Lois turned it on and set it down on the coffee table between them.

“How has the weather been in Gotham recently, Miss Wayne?” Lois asked, leaning back as she balanced a notepad and pen on her crossed legs. She was wearing her usual matching purple pencil skirt and blazer over a white blouse, her black hair down and over her shoulders. “Breanna, please. And it’s been…the normal, for Gotham at least.”

Lois smiled, and glanced down at her lap.

“Alright then, Breanna, call me Lois.  How have you been? Recently all Cat’s written about you is some contradictory information about a Jaden and a Mose. That can’t have been easy, juggling twins.”

Breanna laughed, a chiming sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed this thus far! There are 3 more parts to the prologue that will go up next week, and the following week Chapter One will be posted! I might go ahead and finish one of my drabbles set in an AU of this AU...


	4. Prologue pt 3: The Interview B

“I don’t exactly know what she was writing about myself. You see, I happened to go on a date with Jaden, but in the process met his twin brother Mose. We then went out on a date a few weeks later, but neither went anywhere farther than the respective restaurants. It was the scandal of the week as I had apparently convinced Cat—and the world—that I was seriously dating Lex Luthor.”

“Were you dating Luthor, seriously or otherwise?”

Breanna shook her head with a smile.

“No, not at all. Lex and I were meeting multiple times a week to set up a new joint project between our companies but our visions did not align. You can’t blame Cat though, she was extremely thorough in her investigation of my life: there’s just not that much to find that you don’t already see.”

“Cat definitely gets what she wants most of the time,” Lois said. “Could you possibly tell us more about this failed project?”

Breanna stared past Ms. Lane, her lips moving in a circle before opening in response.

“There’s not much that I can actually say about the project itself seeing as how Lex is planning to go through with it on his own now, as much as he is able without Wayne Industries unique assistance.”

Lois nodded, scribbling something down on her notepad. She leaned forward slightly, her blue eyes narrowed.

“Do you think you could instead tell us—me—what about your visions didn’t align?”

Breanna stilled for a second before letting loose a deep breath. Lois had to hide a grin—not many broke past the shell Breanna Wayne portrayed towards almost all media personnel, but things seemed to be pointing to a rare genuine interview with the young woman.

“Since my parents passed, I’ve tried to do all I can to help others as they would have wanted. The Wayne fortune is not meant to be solely saved for my pleasure and future posterity. It is a blessing and one that I must share. People sometimes confuse helping others with throwing money at them, but the Wayne Industries employees and I have found that when you educate someone and provide the tools they need, then you are better providing help than if you just gave them a $1000 a month.”

“That sounds like a PR statement, not an answer,” Lois prodded. Breanna smiled without showing her teeth.

“Let’s just say that I think there is a necessary need for distance when helping someone while still remaining relatively close, and Lex is more of the opinion that total control will garner a faster and longer lasting result.”

Lois nodded, and wrote a few things down before speaking again.

“You mentioned your parents and what they would have wanted. Is that as in what they would have wanted from you as their sole heir, or wanted from the rest of the world?”

Breanna pursed her lips as she stared at Lois who held her hand over her notepad, poised to start writing again.

“They were kind people. I like to think that I knew them better than most despite how young I was when they were murdered, or at least had a unique perspective that no one except maybe Alfred shared. In that respect I think it’s what they would have wanted from both me and the rest of Gotham and our country and the world.”

The other woman nodded understandingly.

“As tomorrow will mark the 13th anniversary of their passing, what do you think they would think of you now? And of Wayne Industries, and Gotham?” She asked.

Breanna looked at her, surprise coloring her expression for a moment. As she sucked on her bottom lip, the 21-year-old orphan shifted in her seat so that the opposite leg was now underneath the other.

“I think they would be proud of what I’ve done with both myself and the company. I did not allow their passing to control the rest of my life, nor did I turn towards any sort of unsavory pastime to “cope”,” here she used air quotes. “Wayne Industries is doing better than ever, and is involved in more charity and goodwill than most other companies can boast. Gotham, however, is a different answer entirely.”

Breanna opened her mouth to respond, her eyebrows coming down in a briefly angry expression. She was stopped from responding as someone knocked on the study door.

“Come in,” she called out, instead of whatever she had been about to say.

Alfred pushed the door openly gently with a black wooden tray in his hands.

“Forgiven the intrusion, Miss, but I brought some refreshments. Ms. Lane.”

After setting it down the butler disappeared quietly once again. Breanna smiled at the reports and waved a hand over the tray.

“Please, take whatever you want.”

Lois was a little surprised to find a bowl of fresh strawberries and blueberries next to a small spoon, one of her personal favorites. There was a second plate, and this one was full of what looked like fluffy diamonds of pastry with a dark filling—baklava.

“Alfred sure does his research,” Lois said as she picked up the spoon clearly meant for her.

Breanna grinned, picking up her treat.

“He prides himself on being the best butler possible. I don’t know what I would have done without him all these years.”

They both chewed for a few seconds, savoring a few bites before Lois put her bowl back down. She swallowed rather obviously.

“What were you going to say about Gotham, Breanna?”

The heiress daintily finished chewing, and swallowed.

“It’s probably a good thing Alfred interrupted,” she said quietly, looking out the window at nothing. The mood shifted at that moment.

“I’ve seen the harshest, cruelest that Gotham has to offer, and at a young age too. And now? In so many ways Gotham had just gotten worse, and in very few ways aspects has it improved. Wayne Industries has provided jobs but crime is still steadily rising. My parent’s killer was never found, never brought to justice…” here she seemed to truly leave the room.

“I will never have any sense of closure concerning their deaths, and that combined with the sheer unnecessariness of their deaths will always haunt me,” she murmured.

Lois’ eyebrows lowered minimally.

“I’m sorry!” Breanna turned around and faced the journalist, her eyes wide and a hand over her mouth. “That was so un-tactful of me to say, such a downer. Please don’t publish that portion, I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention to what I was saying.”

“Alright, Breanna. I’ll do that for you,” Lois said. The mood was darkly somber and over the course of the next few questions it seemed that Breanna Wayne’s walls were back up.

 

A little under an hour later, and Lois had enough for more than just one article. Breanna came with Alfred to show her out and once she was gone the heiress collapsed on the couch in the living room. Her butler sat down in the seat across from the coffee table and shook his head.

“You should have done more to focus the interview Mrs. Wayne’s foundation, in my opinion.”

Breanna groaned and turned over, facing the cushions and throwing a leg over the back of the couch. She mumbled something into the cushions.

“Miss Wayne,” Alfred said in his scolding voice, “please refrain from treating the furniture as such. The Manor is your home, not a playground.”

Breanna twisted in such a way that all of her body except for her shoulders, neck, head, and hands were off the couch and in the air. Alfred sighed and stood, glancing at her charge.

“Your scheduled meeting with Mr. Fox is in an hour. If you truly want to convince him to be on board with your future night-time endeavors, then you may want to have all of your material compiled, if it isn’t already.”

Breanna straightened up into a handstand and blew out a burst of air.

“My stuff is together, I’m just not sure if _I_ am.”

She fell back onto the couch, the handstand not a perfected move in her arsenal quite yet.

“Miss Wayne!”


	5. Prologue Pt 4: The Birth of a Bat A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breanna Wayne's first night out as the Bat

Alfred stood on one side of the fairly large island in the relatively large kitchen. He was stirring something in a bowl, but Breanna neither knew what it was or even truly realized what he was doing. She was speaking to herself, and speaking quickly. He added the ingredients as they were needed, and didn’t even bother to pretend to respond as he knew she wasn’t really listening.

“I want to do this, I’ve wanted to do this for months, years now! I can’t just turn back now that it’s a reality. I’ve owned my fears and fought hard to get to this point. Especially after all the work it took to convince you and Lucius and Leslie to even agree to help me, let alone think it will be a good idea.”

She swiped a grape from a bowl on the counter and chewed it and another quickly before continuing.

“But it’ll be so dangerous, and who knows if I’ll be making a difference or doing any good? Look at Metropolis! Superman shows up, an _alien_ , and then supervillains start popping up and he’s no longer able to help every single little person because there are times when he’s too focused on taking down the big bad guy. He barely keeps his people safe and he has powers! I’m just a human, and no amount of training or armor or even allies will help me if some perp with a gun gets in a lucky shot.”

She grabbed another grape, Alfred glancing up at her. She had paced the same few feet of the kitchen enough times he was contemplating on asking her to move so as to ever out the wear of the floor. He smiled to himself and shook his head—the British man doubted she would register that he had spoken.

“But who else will protect the people of Gotham? Who else will help the few good cops like Gordon who are still fighting the good fight? I have a suit, a codename, an entire volume of contingencies ready for almost possible every situation, all the training I could hope for, a butler, a doctor, and someone who knows how to fix my tools better than I do. No one else could or would do this for Gotham.”

Yet another grape was stolen, and Alfred found himself sighing. It wasn’t often but sometimes Breanna would eat an entire container of grapes mindlessly if not stopped. She wasn’t even halfway through this cluster of the fruit yet but he figured he should stop her while she was ahead.

“Miss Wayne, if the past decade of doubts and questions you’ve had and posed have not been enough to dissuade you, and the worries others have brought up, and the extensive training and borderline torture you’ve experienced for this moment has not truly stopped you then I believe that you have nothing to worry about.”

Breanna stared at him, chewing on yet another grape.

“True.”

He pursed his lips and went back to his business, pouring what he had been stirring into a baking pan, smoothing the top with the spatula he had used to stir with.

“I’ll be down in the cave then, finalizing things for tonight. The Bat of Gotham’s first appearance!”

And she was gone. Alfred paused for a moment before taking a grape for himself. He made a face and promptly spit it out into the trashcan. Green grapes may be Breanna’s favorite but they were most certainly not his.

 

The car was loud, and originally that was not something Breanna was happy about. But then Lucius showed her that it could be made silent, and had all sorts of other fancy tricks such as autopilot. Having barely just parked, she jumped out of it, billowing her cloak behind her in a move that had, admittedly, been practiced a hundred times to perfection. She landed on the ground in a crouch and stood. The design of her cloak allowed the fabric to fall forward in a protective manner without any movement from the wearer.

She lifted her arm and shot off a grappling hook, rising into the air rapidly. She landed on the roof of the nearest building and began moving. A bored British voice crackled in her ear.

“It appears that there is robbery about to occur just a block north of your position. A small convenience store, family owned.”

“On my way,” she said. The voice synthesizer worked even over the comms, and Alfred had yet to get used to the voice that was both not his mistress’ and was.

“These are just your average thieves off the street, no malicious planning from what I can tell Miss.”

There was no confirming sound, but then again she didn’t need one. A figure in shadows across the street, the Bat was crouched on the edge of the roof. One of the three men—boys really—had a gun pulled on the man behind the cashier, the man whose family owned the store.

She shot the grappling hook again, this time gliding downwards through the already open doors. When Breanna stood up to her full height, the cape coming in front, and stared down the thugs.

“What the hell are you?” The one holding the gun finally got out, staring at her.

“Nothing good for you,” she murmured. The voice synthesizer she wore not only deepened her voice and added a few elements she did not naturally possess, but also made it sound like she was practically growling with every word she spoke.

One of the two not holding the gun looked at his companions before running out of the store. The other one stepped back, raising his hands.

“Man, you crazy. What are you supposed to be? Some sort of monster?”

She tilted her head and looked at the gun less would-be thief, narrowing her eyes. She took a step forward and the gun was turned on her. The cashier turned and ran, going through a back door. The hand holding the gun began to shake.

Without moving her cape, she grabbed a smoke pellet and dropped it on the ground just before pressing a button that released an EMP, causing even the emergency lights to flicker before going out.

The one who was not holding a gun promptly screamed and tried to run out, stumbling and tripping and almost face planting. The one holding the gun dropped it and raised his hands above his head. A siren finally reached their ears, and flashing red and blue lights illuminated the shop now empty but for the almost-thief. He looked around in confusion, desperately trying to figure out where the masked, costumed freak had gone.

The police officer who ended up viewing the footage recovered from the store in order to validate the perp’s story (and to identify the other two attempted thieves) had the unfortunate chance to discover that Gotham now had its own monster. The question that soon was spread throughout the police station was what was it, and was it going to do good or do bad.


	6. Prologue Pt 4: The Birth of a Bat B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the last portion of the prologues! Starting next week, the real chapters with some new-ish faces. And sooner rather than later our beloved Man of Steel will enter the scene (I promise). But for some, here's Breanna and Alfred.

Later that month, when the night had reached a point that most other cities would have been long asleep, the Bat found herself almost too tired to continue what had become her routine. She knew she should turn in, but decided that one last stop wouldn’t hurt. After all, every moment counted in Gotham.

When she finally made it back to the Cave and dragged herself out of the car and promptly fell to the ground, she regretted that. A lucky stab in the dark that had caught one of the three weaknesses of the suit left her left leg throbbing and dripping blood. Fortunately, Alfred was prepared and had already set up all the first aid she could need.

Later that night found an exhausted Breanna Wayne laying on top of the covers of her bed, scrolling on her “night work” tablet, reading some police reports on certain patterns in one Gotham neighborhood.

Without knocking Alfred walked in, a small tray with a single steaming mug resting on it. He put the tray on the empty bedside table, glancing at her and her hands.

“Here is your favorite, Miss Wayne, some fresh hot chocolate without the cinnamon.” She smiled up at him and took a sip right then and there. Halfway through the mug and she realized that Alfred had yet to leave.

“What, what are you—” a yawn interrupted her, the mug beginning to slip from her fingers. Alfred took it and the tablet from her, and Breanna realized right before her eyes fell shut that her butler must have drugged her.

 

Breanna was more than a little frustrated. She had been active in Gotham for three months now and—yes, she had saved quite a few lives and stopped over a hundred robberies and beatings—nothing had truly seemed to work. And those who were talking about her were constantly fighting to assign a gender to her. Why did it matter if the Bat was a man or woman? Alfred and Lucius never failed to point out the benefits of letting people assume she was a man, and begrudgingly Breanna agreed.

All the police had were increasing reports and blurry pictures of a figure dressed as a bat and criminals who were spreading rumors of some freak prowling Gotham; in Breanna’s mind she was having no real impact. Not like Superman in Metropolis, the only other costumed hero working for the same things she was. Though, Breanna amended her thought, I have heard rumors of an arrow-shooting man in Starling City and a flying woman with a sword most heard of overseas or in DC.

Crouched on one of the many gargoyles that littered Gotham’s architecture for no true reason other than misplaced aesthetic, the Bat watched the street below. One of two contacts she had already established had tipped her off to a fairly big heist planned to happen right around midnight. And so she watched, and she waited, and when she saw that everything was seconds away from happening she swooped in.

The jewelry store that was about to be robbed was full of about 20 people, all wearing masks and black, and the shattering glass sprayed over them. Some were frightened and trigger happy and bullets sprayed towards her. Breanna pulled her cloak tighter around and covered her face, grateful for Lucius’ insistence on an unnaturally strong fabric. When the room had stilled, she stood up to her full height, also thanking her foresight for having lifts and slight heels in her boots, making her well over 6 feet tall.

“Yo, I told you this was a bad idea,” someone whispered.

“It’s that Bat thing! The one Jerry was telling us about!” someone else said.

Breanna took half of a step forward and bullets were spraying again, the few who weren’t holding guns moving behind their companions.

“Kill it!” the leader screamed, moving forward minimally. Breanna bent down a little, lifting her cape again, this time to hide her movements as she loosened some smoke pellets and a flashbang grenade. With a dramatic swing of her arm she threw the grenade into the middle of the thieves, and with eyes closed dropped the smoke pellets. The chaos and confusion that ensued allowed her to quickly either decapitate or injure beyond moving all 20. She slipped out, sprinting to the closest corner, and fired a grappling hook.

From the roof across the street that she had formerly been perched on she listened to the police radio, hearing now-familiar voices discuss the scene before them. The conversation had not gone anywhere past “that bat thing again?” when Breanna heard a scream. She raced across the rooftop and looked down where she watched as three large figures seemed to be cornering a short woman whose purse was held tightly against her chest.

The Bat sighed and dropped down, gliding on her cape. She stared at the scene unfolding in front of her from the shadows. She had not been noticed yet and so with one fluid motion she threw one of her bat-shaped ninja stars. It cut into the brick wall next to the cornered woman, not near hurting her but just missing the smallest thug’s ear. The woman screamed, covering her face with her purse, as the three turned around.

“I ain’t done nothing wrong yet!” One of them shouted, holding his hands up in the sky. Breanna glared at him and moved low to the ground as she threw a bola at the two on either side. She came up and punched the man in the center squarely in the jaw, and he went flying into the wall. He slumped to the ground, out cold, and by then the police had somehow noticed or been alerted to the events happening in the alley.

Turned around, about to fire a grappling hook up into the night and fly off, Breanna was stopped by two arms quickly coming around her back.

“Thank you,” the woman whispered, and quickly let go.

The Bat didn’t turn around before leaving.

 

Later that same night, sitting in her cave, she watched the woman’s testimony on the live feed from the police station. With her fingers steepled in front of her face, her chin leaning against her hands, Breanna’s face showed no emotion.

“I swear! It was a woman, maybe not human but definitely a woman. When I thanked her I felt it,” the woman she had saved insisted.

The sounds of Alfred entering the cave with a tray of something prompted her to turn it off. A huge bat symbol took up the center of the main screen, and she nudged the chair so that she was facing her butler.

“A successful night, I presume?”

“It was, Alfred.”

She swiped one of the sandwiches off the tray before he finished setting it down, nibbling in thought. Superman was unique. He was an alien, an entity who could fly, had super-strength, and a plethora of other powers. He inspired people and made them feel safe, even outside of Metropolis. Breanna could admit—she had been jealous at the age of 19 when he first made his public debut. Her crusade was against the darker kinds of criminals, one’s who a flying Boy Scout wouldn’t be enough to stop, and she didn’t have anything he had.

The alien did a good job of keeping his identity a secret, and even her extensive research had not revealed who he was when not wearing the suit. Breanna shrugged mentally; one way or another she would figure it out, and hopefully before something happened.

“I believe I’ll be turning in soon, Alfred.”

“Alright, Miss. Should I turn down the covers for you? Shine the car perhaps?”

Breanna grinned up at him, still working her way through the sandwich.

“No, I think I’m good.”

“Very well then, I shall see you in the morning. Good night.”

“Good night,” she murmured to his turned back.


	7. Chapter 1: Laughing Man A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While meeting with newly appointed GCPD Police Commissioner James Gordon, Batwoman is introduced to the Prince of Crime when a man calling himself the Joker appears on TV, killing a woman. Signs and clues begin to pop up and make sense as wealthy members of Gotham’s elite are targeted and begin to drop dead. Batwoman is officially introduced to the public and the world as Gotham’s personal hero when inmates from Williams Medical Center are released into the streets—but there are still no answers. When Breanna Wayne is targeted, Batwoman finally makes the right connections: but is she too late to save herself, and Gotham?

“In other Gotham news, Arkham Asylum will be reopening next month as a facility equipped to handle Gotham’s most dangerous and disturbed criminals, along with regular patients in dire need of extreme assistance,” the woman on the television screen reported. Batwoman barely spared the story a glance. It was under her advisement and Gordon’s help that Arkham was going to be up and running again. With the appearance of few criminals who seemed to be above average it was determined that the jail just wasn’t enough to hold them and keep the people of Gotham safe.

“I don’t like the looks of these deaths, Batwoman,” Gordon murmured under his breath. She shook her head.

“Me neither.”

They were looking over the photos and case files for a number of eerily similar deaths with no apparent connection other than how they died. With a horrid, twisted version of a smile on their faces.

“CSI got back and none of the toxin screens showed anything out of the ordinary, and background checks showed no connections to any of the crime families or underground.”

Breanna turned slightly to face the Commissioner better.

“Their deaths were random. There was no purpose behind them—just a serial killer playing with some new toys.”

The voice synthesizer she and Lucius had designed had needed a few tweaks to help also change the patterns of inflection when she spoke, now that she was unofficially working with GCPD.

“As much as I hate to say it, I agree. Now, what—”

He stopped as a commotion on screen distracted them both.

The reporter was giggling, laughing, her volume and intensity increasing. Other personnel from the news room tried to get her to calm down, someone even calling for an ambulance. Both James and Breanna knew what was about to happen but neither could do anything to stop it as they watched the poor woman strangle on nothing, her head falling onto the desk with a sickening thud.

Static took over the audio and visual feed until it was replaced by a dark room. One white spotlight came on, and in the light was a figure facing away. He wore a bright purple suit and seemed to have equally bright green hair.

Breanna stepped closer to the television as Gordon spoke into his radio about getting someone to hack the feed, find its source.

“Hello, people of Gotham,” a low voice chuckled. The man standing in the light slowly turned around. His skin was white—not the white of a pale person but the color of chalk or clown paint.

“Sorry to interrupt your afternoon report but I have some fantastic news you may want to be tuning in for.”

Batwoman opened up a compartment on her left arm where a small device connected her to the mega-computer in the cave at all times. She began typing furiously with the one hand, hoping that her pre-made algorithms would be enough to figure out at least the source of the broadcast.

“You see, Gotham has become such a dreary place what with all the people coming and going and being such obedient little worker drones, and the Bat spoiling people’s fun. So I’ve decided to give you a helping hand, and provide some fun! The first person to experience some fun is man by the name of Henry Claridge—some of you may know him! One of Gotham’s rich, I’ve decided that he will be the first to help you and I with our fun! See you soon! Ta ta,” and with that the feed cut to a cartoon-esque image of a clown with the man’s features and one word: Joker.

Batwoman turned around and started to walk out of the office.

“Batwoman! Wait!” Gordon called. She stopped and turned to face him.

“I’m sending some of my men to watch Claridge, I need you to head over to Arkham—they have something they was you to see.”

 

One of the orderlies who was set to officially start work the next month when the Asylum opened showed her through the winding halls. It was a dark and dreary place on its own little island, and Batwoman hated every second there.

They finally stopped in front of one of the larger cells being prepped for when they needed to hold someone with more than just a few mental problems. On the wall written in what could only be blood was “One by one, they’ll hear my call. Then this wicked town, will follow my fall.”

After taking some pictures and a sample of the material used to paint the cryptic message Breanna was back in the cave. While the tests were finalizing their results, she replayed the video over and over again. This “Joker” had done a good job, as nothing was visible in the footage except for him. Nothing that could pinpoint a location or motive or identity.

Right as the beeping from her machines alerted her to the tests completion she received and incoming call from Gordon.

“Yes?” She said.

“It’s Claridge. He’s dead—just like the reporter. There, there was nothing we could do.”

“I’ll be right there.”

She hung up before he could say anything more and walked over to the lab portion of the cave. It was to her frustration that none of the equipment had given any information. It was pig’s blood, but there was nothing in it pointing at a location or place of sale.

 

Breanna leaned back in her chair, the cowl hanging against the back of her neck and her eyes closed. Claridge’s body showed nothing but a sickening grin, and the toxin screens showed once again that there was nothing that should have caused the man’s death. As Breanna Wayne, she had vaguely known the man as an acquaintance. One of the smaller screens had news playing while muted but something caused her to look up. With a few swipes and quick taps the main screen was playing the main channel.

“New footage has surfaced from this man calling himself the Joker, this time threatening Jay W. Wilde. Viewer discretion is advised, but, wait, we’re getting reports in about—”

As the woman’s voice began to take on a panicked tone alarms began blaring in the cave. Batwoman pulled her cowl over her face, quickly pulling the ponytail her black hair hung in through its special opening, and was leaping into the car in seconds, already plotting the quickest route in her mind.

Inmates from Williams Medical Center, many of whom were scheduled to be transferred to Arkham once it was open, were somehow loose and roaming the streets of Gotham.

 

In almost 15 minutes she was leaping out of the car, sending it to a backroad on the outskirts of Gotham on autopilot. Gordon and some other officers were pinned down behind a barricade of police cars and she joined them. No one had noticed her approached and whispered curses and flinching motions were the sum of the reactions.

“About time you got here,” Gordon said without any real bite in his voice.

“How do they have all these weapons?” One of his men shouted in fear. Batwoman peeked over the hood of the car she was crouched behind and narrowed her eyes.

“Someone armed them, probably whoever helped them break out.”

Gordon nodded and popped back up to take a few more shots.

“We can’t just kill everyone. That’d be wrong and most of the inmates are there on fair terms.”

She nodded once and then vaulted herself over the cars. A few bolas went flying, sending the gun-less inmates to their knees and sides. A smoke pellet here and there gave her enough shadow to function, and show she was going hand-to-hand with five different people at once. Three of them held pocket knives in both hands, and her costume’s armor was taking the brunt of it. The other two were holding baseball bats with the same stylized clown that seemed to have become the Joker’s symbol.

A high round house kick, a low flip, a sweep of her legs, an elbow in someone’s gut, a series of punches, and the five were lying on the ground in various stages of consciousness. Breanna headed towards where a group of inmates had cornered some of the guards and workers of the Medical Center just inside the front door. She listened to the police’s comms with half of her brain as she threw two batarangs, taking out two of the attackers. A few lucky shots from both a knife and few fists and that group was down as well.

By then the smoke she had started had dissipated and as she led the frightened but otherwise unharmed people out into the street she was swarmed by journalists and reporters. The police had everyone under custody or receiving medical attention, and James pushed his way through the shouting crowd to stand next to Batwoman.

“Quiet! One at a time!” He shouted. Breanna desperately wished she could disappear but there were too many eyes on her to do so.

“Batwoman,” a reporter from the Gotham Gazette spoke first.

“Batwoman, what powers do you have?”

She didn’t respond, just chose to look at the next reporter,

“Why now? Why are you terrorizing the streets of Gotham and fighting criminals only at night?”

Batwoman took a split second before speaking.

“I was not ready before now. And bats are nocturnal creatures.”

She looked at the next reporter, one who’s eyes were wide and hands trembling.

“Um, B-b-batwoman, ma’am, where did you come from?”

Batwoman waited a beat and stepped back, smoke pellets already loose in both of her hands.

“Gotham,” was her only reply as she let them fall. She said a silent apology to the Commissioner as the people closest began choking. She stepped back and melted into the newly created shadows.

 

“I found a lead, Gordon,” she said. Driving back to the Manor she had called him. After it was established that there were no hard feelings she went back to business.

“Ace Chemicals Processing Plant has had a few select products go missing in the past month. I’m going to investigate.”

Gordon sighed over the phone.

“Alright, just let me know what you find. Jay W Wilde was just threatened, you know.”

“I know,” she said and then hung up.

Once back in the cave she began to strip. The black cape came off first, draped over the back of her chair. Dark grey material covered her in similar fashion to a wet suit from neck to wrists to ankles, with layers over her torso, upper arms, thighs, and calves made of Kevlar and other materials. Her cowl was connected to the main portion of the costume with a small slit for her hair to be tugged through, and after going through the necessary motions so as to not shock herself she pulled it off. She took each piece of armor and costume and laid it out on a table just for that purpose before turning to face Alfred, who had walked in during the process.

Under the costume, she wore a sports bra and compression shorts, and her skin was littered with bruises, some fresh scars, and plenty of spots where she was bleeding from. Nothing was too serious but she still allowed her butler to clean and bandage what needed it. Nothing needed to be stitched this time and she quickly went upstairs to her personal wardrobe.

“What is it to be now, miss? A costume event downtown?”

Breanna rolled her eyes as she pulled on the plain grey pencil skirt and equally boring matching blouse.

“I need to find some things out at Ace Chemical’s, the plant on the west side. I can’t do that as Batwoman so I need to disguise myself as an inspector.”

“Understood, miss. Which vehicle will you be taking?”

“I’m going to need you to drop me off somewhere downtown and I’ll take a cab the rest of the way. It’s time for their inspection anyway.”

 

During the drive to Gotham proper, Alfred had the radio turned on and Breanna groaned, putting her head in her hands, at the news.

“So back to our breaking story, Gerald. It appears that Batwoman does indeed exist and is not just an urban legend or some phantom prowling the streets at night. Commissioner James Gordon had this to say on how GCPD will move forward.”

There was a bit of a pause as sound source transferred, and then Gordon was speaking.

“Batwoman has proven that he is willing to work alongside the police at times. No innocents are hurt and no one is killed, so there’s not much ground to keep hunting her. I for one believe that it could potentially be a beneficial partnership between us at GCPD.”

“Thank you, Commissioner Gordon. Now on to our friends at the Daily Planet, to hear some outside-of-Gotham opinions on our confirmation of Batwoman’s existence.”

Breanna leaned forward and turned off the radio with a sharp clack of her new fake nails on the dashboard.

“I would have thought this would be a momentous occasion, a time to even celebrate, Miss. Why the distress?”

“Because, Alfred,” Breanna shifted in her seat, looking out the window, “part of my goal is to make the criminals of Gotham fear me. People fear the unknown, the monster that lurks in the shadows and the dark, and I can’t be that person if I have an interview on Good Morning America and prove that I’m a regular person.”

Alfred didn’t say anything else, just nodded and “hmmed”. In no time they were parked in an alley between some convenience stores and diners. Breanna got out and quickly put on the cheap blue sweater over her outfit and adjusted the fake glasses that covered half of her face.

“I should be back here in a few hours. Feel free to go do other things, don’t just sit here the entire time.”

She closed the door and walked around the car as Alfred rolled down the driver’s window. She looked down at him as he spoke.

“Oh jolly, there’s some motion pictures I’d been hoping to have some time to go see. If you need me miss, I shall be unavailable.” And with that he drove off. Breanna grinned and shook her head before turning around and walking towards the closest major intersection.


	8. Chapter 1: A Laughing Man B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While meeting with newly appointed GCPD Police Commissioner James Gordon, Batwoman is introduced to the Prince of Crime when a man calling himself the Joker appears on TV, killing a woman. Signs and clues begin to pop up and make sense as wealthy members of Gotham’s elite are targeted and begin to drop dead. Batwoman is officially introduced to the public and the world as Gotham’s personal hero when inmates from Williams Medical Center are released into the streets—but there are still no answers. When Breanna Wayne is targeted, Batwoman finally makes the right connections: but is she too late to save herself, and Gotham?

While she was inside the Processing Plant, Breanna had heard the newest targets with the rest of the workers. Judge Thomas Lake—and Breanna Wayne. In the car ride back to the Manor, and as she changed, Breanna shared her new information with Alfred.

“Someone has taken a few of the chemicals at night, but none that combined together would create any known toxin or poison. They’ve wiped the cameras thoroughly and nothing suspicious has happened there for a few months. About a year back there was a worker who had just been fired who fell into one of the vats and died, but other than that the workers and employers are pretty much clean.”

She sipped out of the class of water with a lemon in it that Alfred had just handed her. She was lounging in one of the front rooms, sitting in an armchair.

“I’m glad you’re endeavors paid off with at least some information, Miss Wayne, but are you not worried about the threat this Joker made against your life? Nothing has been able to stop or help the other victims and the Commissioner is with the Judge, not here.”

Breanna, dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans with a loose pale blue blouse, grinned up at her butler.

“There’s already a team on their way, and besides! Batwoman will protect me.”

Alfred rolled his eyes and turned to head back to the kitchen.

Once the police officers arrived Breanna found herself surrounded and making polite conversation with them until their radios began to go off. The sounds and shouts formed one conclusion—some of the goons working for the Joker were attacking Judge Lake’s residence, and there was a shootout going on that instance.

Breanna was about to make a quip one might expect of a threatened billionaire when she felt herself start to giggle. She couldn’t stop herself, even when she put her hands over her mouth. Fear stabbed her heart as she and Alfred shared eye contact. She started to laugh and laugh but couldn’t figure out why she was laughing.

The police officers around her were shouting and hands gripped her arms in an attempt to force her to calm down. Alfred appeared in front of her, the spinning room focusing around him now. She grabbed his arms tightly, gasping for breath as the laughter turned hysterical.

“Forgive me, Miss Wayne,” he said before stabbing her with something. She looked down and felt everything begin to slow and still. Her sight became fuzzy, and soon dark, and Breanna Wayne fell to the ground, almost another victim of the Joker.

 

Breanna was confused. Everything around her was blurry but for right in front of her. It was like looking down a dark tunnel and being blinded by the small amount of light at the end. She saw three figures, two tall and one obviously, that of a child. As she drifted closer the sound became clear.

“It’s not so scary now! Now I want to be just like Zorro,” the young Breanna Wayne said as she waved a crumpled program like a sword. “But a girl Zorro!”

Older Breanna looked with horror at her parents as they laughed and murmured. She stumbled forward, arms outstretched.

“Mother, Father,” she whispered through numb lips.

But it was with horror that she saw the towering man wreathed in shadow appear and raise a glinting gun.

“No!” She screamed and fell forward.

She sat up with a racing heart to see Alfred on one side and a paramedic on the other.

“She’s up!” Someone shouted and Breanna let Alfred push her back down to lie on what had to be the gurney inside of an ambulance.

“What,” she tried to speak, her mouth dry and rough. “What happened?”

“Your butler was a smart man and gave you an injection of a beta blocker, slowing your heart. Somehow that did the trick and you survived. Here.”

The paramedic handed her a glass of water and Breanna sipped from it gratefully, slowly sitting up.

“And Judge Lake?”

The paramedic stilled, and Alfred answered.

“Dead. Gordon’s men told us how he died like all the other victims, and most of the men shooting at them got away.”

Breanna nodded sadly, and made to stand.

“We need to make sure you’re completely of out danger, Miss Wayne! It’ll only take a few tests.”

 

When she was finally released back into the Manor with Alfred Breanna lost no time. She immediately went to the cave and began to get dressed.

“Going out so soon?”

“I know how he’s doing it Alfred, I know how he’s got each of us.”

“Oh?”

She looked at before pulling on the cowl.

“He’s poisoned the water.”

As her car zoomed out of the cave, the ringing tone echoed inside the vehicle. When Gordon finally answered she wasted no time with pleasantries.

“Breanna Wayne survived, barely. It’s the water—he’s poisoned the water. Get the Water Reservoir shut down.”

She hung up and sped towards the source of Gotham’s drinking water.

She flung herself out of the car and ran inside the closest entrance—Gordon had contacted her and explained that no one was answering at the Reservoir.

 

In less than ten minutes, after doing something elsewhere in the reservoir, she found her way up to the control and saw someone who could only be the Joker standing there, looking out over the room.

“About time you showed up, Bats. I thought you’d snub me on our first date!”

Bat]man didn’t reply, just walked closer. The Joker was tall but not taller than her with a slim figure and what looked like very little muscle definement.

He turned around and grinned, a wild look in his eyes. Up close he looked just as he had over the television and Breanna was glad that her cowl recorded everything.

“What, no hello? No introduction?” He cajoled, leaning against the control board.

“You’re too late you know,” he said quietly. “I’ve already poisoned all the water you see here! All of Gotham is gonna take a ride tonight—a ride with a smile on their faces. It’s only a matter of time before the effects get to you too.” He sidled closer to her, casually making his way to the center of the room.

“I wonder how that Wayne woman survived, she must have some smart people close to her. Maybe some…creatures of the night on her side.”

Joker leaned forward, suddenly in her face.

“Does she have you at her beck and call? Do you answer like a dog? Tell me, Batsy,” he moved back in a twirl, laughing with raised arms, “What are you going to do when it’s just you and I left in Gotham?”

Batwoman raised a hand, one that had a button or device of some sort clearly displayed, and showed it to the Joker.

“Oh goodie, what’s this? A toy for us to play with? Some maniacal way to stop me?”

She narrowed her eyes as she pressed the button.

“Yes.”

Something exploded beneath them and the room shuddered. The Joker stumbled backwards and anger crossed his face.

“What have you done?” He asked, all the mischievousness and laughter gone from his face. It had been replaced by a violent expression full of rage.

“Blew the viaduct. Now all the contaminated water is stuck in here, with us.”

His eyes grew wide even as the floor started to crumble in the corners of the room before bursting into laughter.

“Oh good one! We’ll have some fun times, I just know it!”

Batwoman jumped forward and tackled him, pushing their bodies through the crumbling ground to the level beneath them. She landed on the Joker without remorse and rolled off of him into a standing position mere feet away as the floor they had just been standing on came tumbling around them. The room they had landed in was roughly the same size of the control room above but empty, except for the rubble and sparking wires littering the ground.

He lay there, coughing and groaning, for a few seconds before pushing himself up causally. He ran towards her, pulling out a gun that looked more like a party prop than the real thing.

“Clever Bat!”

He pulled the trigger and Batw0man rolled out of the way, behind an extra-large piece of cement, away from the very real bullets that seemed to be dripping some green liquid when they hit the concrete wall behind her.

“But clever won’t get you out of this,” and the Joker continued to shoot at her, laughing raucously, even as the support beam holding up the control room collapsed next to him.

Breanna took a quick look at the room as she dove and rolled, staying in a crouch as he took time to adjust his aim. It was more of a basement, really, than an actual room. Not one meant to be occupied let alone at a time when the building and all the water was about to become one. She calculated that they had maybe five minutes, if not less, to get out before they were crushed or drowned.

She threw three batarangs in quick succession at the Joker and did another dive-roll that she came out of with a swinging fist. What had worked on a thug just early that same day did not work on this villain, as he had been cut by two of the three batarangs and grabbed the last one. The punch threw him back some but not before he swiped with her weapon, tearing a deep gash from her shoulder to the inside of her collarbone.

Batwoman did not scream, but a loud noise of pain did escape her throat. She took a step back before spinning in a high kick, holding her shoulder where she was bleeding profusely. Joker fell to the ground and giggled before licking her blood off of the batarang. He hummed and closed his eyes as if in ecstasy.

Disgust filled Breanna in a way it had not in years, if ever. She stepped back further and threw another batarang with her right arm, keeping her left arm as still as possible. This one sliced the back of his hand and he dropped the stolen weapon with a howl.

“Not fair, Batwoman. Not fair at all,” he growled as he cradled his hand to his chest, something akin to hate gleaming in his eyes. He picked up his gun and without warning started firing again. Breanna heard the walls begin to crack and spared a glance behind her, fear of death by suffocation gripping her heart. Distracted as she was, for that split second, that the last of four bullets the Joker had fired actually hit her in the hip.

With a gasp of pain, she stumbled back, looking down in minute horror only to realize that her armor did protect her and that the bullet had bounced off, melting into a pool of metal on the ground. Batwoman looked up at the Joker, who’s mouth was open in a pleased “O”, but before he could say anything she tossed a smoke pellet. The room was quickly engulfed in a darkness not even she could see through, but Breanna knew she could hear through.

“Come out come out wherever you are,” Joker sang before cackling, his voice echoing some. Batwoman moved forward silently until she knew she was just in front of him.

“Good job, Bats,” he whispered before shoving something into her hip, right where the bullet had bounced off her armor. Whatever it was tore through what the bullet could not and Breanna screamed in pain, stumbling backwards, her hands pressing against the wound that was now also bleeding heavily.

“Enough,” she growled when the smoke had finished clearing. In his hands Joker held one of her batarangs and she was ready to just get it all finished and over with when, with a loud crack, water threw her forward.

In that same moment, she fired a grappling hook at what was left of the room above them, the floor almost entirely gone. Her feet were still somewhat caught in the sudden rush and they clipped the Joker on the side of his head of their own accord. She swung there for a second and contemplated the idea of letting this madman die, drowned and crushed by his own doing. The thought left as soon as it arrived and with a roll of her eyes and sigh of exasperation she lowered herself just enough to grab the now-unconscious clown by his armpit.

 

After waiting on some higher ground with her “sleeping” companion for the contaminated water to stop flooding and begin to soak into the ground—no one would be able to use it for anything for a very long time—Batwoman finally saw some police cars making their way towards her location. From start to finish it had been a long day (a long week, really), and she had field dressed her wounds as much as possible but knew that Alfred would insist on Leslie taking a look when she finally got back to the Manor.

She pushed a button on her belt, summoning her car, and stood as she waited for Gordon and other officers to finish their mad rush up the hill.

“What happened here, Batwoman?” Gordon asked, shouting.

She waited until he was standing next to her and staring wide-eyed at the Joker to speak.

“He had poisoned the entire reservoir so I destroyed the viaduct. Something tells me the building was no longer up to code, as it came down a minute later. We fought right before that and he was knocked out.”

“And is he…” Gordon seemed afraid to answer and Batwoman wondered if she would regret her decision, her new rule.

“Alive but unconscious. I want him to wake up in an Arkham cell, Commissioner. Understood?”

Gordon nodded and turned around, giving his men orders. Clean up was going to be a nightmare but Batwoman did not have it in her to stay and help.

“You alright, Batwoman?” Gordon asked quietly. His blue eyes, set below bushy eyebrows, showed copious amounts of worry.

Breanna began to wave him off, taking a step forward as the unique lights of her car came into view, but stumbled. Gordon caught her, and helped her to sit down. He pushed her cape back and hissed at the very obvious wounds.

“You gonna be alright? You have someone to help you?”

“I do, thank you.” She murmured. The car rumbled to a stop just a few feet away and Gordon helped her get in.

“We’ll handle it from here, Batwoman. Go home, wherever that is for you. Gotham owes you.”


	9. Chapter 2: Enter Last Son of Krypton A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breanna Wayne is turning 23 years old. It has been 4 months since Batwoman fought the Joker. While getting to know someone new at her birthday party, the contraption the media has taken to calling the Batsignal (thanks a lot, Gordon) lights up the sky. In the name of safety, Breanna sends her guests home and dons the cowl—only to run into the Man of Steel himself just a few hours after taking care of the situation. It turns out they’re both looking for the same thing, and Breanna reluctantly agrees to work with him for just this case.  
> This chapter and the next 2 (split up into 6 different postings) will be one story arc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I would like to sincerely apologize. This was supposed to go up on Monday--it is now Friday, in case you haven’t noticed. It has been a busy and tiring week for me and I spent all of Monday in either airports or on planes. So, without further ado, the first part of Chapter Two.

It was only four months since the Joker had appeared, but Gotham society had already bounced back from their member’s deaths; it wasn’t entirely uncommon for people to go missing or die every once in a while. For Breanna’s 23rd birthday party, she hosted a calm celebration in the form of a gala at Wayne Manor. She and Alfred pored over the guest list for over a week, making sure no one was slighted and the proper amount of media was invited as not reporting press but actual guests. It was with a grimace she acquiesced to having the recently returned Oliver Queen and the not-currently-on-parole Lex Luthor.

“If I didn’t have to keep up appearances…” she muttered under her breath. Walking in a handstand behind her butler, Breanna felt sweat slowly dripping down her back and pooling in her bra strap. Whenever he stopped to dust something she started doing a series of push-ups as quickly as possible.

“But I’m afraid you do, Mistress. Unless you’d like the police and FBI and others still after the identity of Batwoman to make some obscure connections.”

Breanna grunted and started moving after him as moved from one hallway table to another.

“I still don’t understand the point of Batman versus Batwoman,” she gasped.

Less than gracefully she let herself fall back into a standing position, putting a hand on her hip.

“Why does there need to be a gender? Why can’t I just be the Bat?”

Alfred spared her a wry look before continuing his chore.

“I don’t have an answer to that, but I will say that the need to assign labels that have caused this gendering your nighttime persona has given you an inkling more safety, if only because no one would suspect the Breanna Wayne to galivant about crusading as a crime fighter.”

Breanna clicked her tongue and turned around.

“I’m going to hit the shower, Alfred. When I’m done if you wouldn’t mind helping me get everything laid out for tonight that would be fantastic.”

As she walked back down the hallway—this time on her feet—Alfred called after her.

“Are you wearing the blue dress or the red dress tonight?”

Breanna paused and shrugged, glancing back at him.

“The blue one, I guess.”

He nodded in reply.

 

The Wayne family had employed only one servant since Martha and Thomas made the decision to stop hosting society events at their family home, and that same servant still continued to be the sole long-term employee. For the sake of the upcoming gala, however, Breanna and Alfred had hired a few chefs and waiters with catering experience and an event planner—Rachael Iverson—who took care of the details Breanna didn’t care about. She did care about security, the food, and the color scheme. As cliché as it was, the heiress' favorite color was blue, the same color as her eyes, without a preference for shade.

She was lucky to have no allergies but knew some of the guests had some food allergies and after contacting each of the invitees she had compiled a list of possible refreshments and the planner took care of the rest. The party itself was relegated to the ballroom and gardens only, and the individuals hired to take care of the decorating showed up just three hours before it was to begin. By then, Breanna and Alfred had made sure that any artifacts associated with her nightlife were carefully hidden or stowed away if not already. Her hair was in a simple bun, still wet from her shower, and she ignored the water slowly dripping down onto the neckline of her t-shirt as she spoke with the dark-skinned woman in charge of the whole party when one of her few true friends attending appeared.

Ever since their first interview, Breanna had corresponded with Lois Lane regularly, exchanging information and the occasional meme as it came across their respective attention. More pen pals than the traditional friend, the two women had arranged to get ready together. Breanna politely excused herself from her conversation and turned to hug the shorter woman. For once she wasn’t in a suit, rather Lois had chosen to wear a pair of worn sweatpants and a t-shirt that had obviously seen better days. Her hair was up in a messy ponytail and her own blue eyes were hidden by a pair of aviator sunglasses that Breanna commented on.

“Clark got them for me for my last birthday,” she explained.

Breanna smiled—she had heard much about Clark Kent and was excited to meet him that night—and gave Lois a quick hug.

“Come on in,” she said, gesturing up the steps of the Manor. Lois followed quickly, pulling a small suitcase behind her. Despite the risks that Alfred had repeated more than once, Breanna had impulsively invited the older woman to spend the night.

“Sorry it’s a bit of a mess, they’re about halfway done getting everything ready.”

Lois pushed her sunglass on top of her head, taking her time to look around the foyer.

“What you call a mess is still impeccable to me, Bre.”

Breanna rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, Lo, come on.”

They went up the main stairs quickly and passed Alfred, who moved out of their way with a slight bow of his head.

“Breanna, Miss Lane.”

“Hi Alfred,” Lois said with a grin.

“I have your things laid out on your bed, Miss Wayne,” he said with a soft smile at his ward. Breanna grinned at him; there was something akin to happiness in her eyes that he had not seen for some time.

“Thank you, Alfred. You’re free to go whenever you like.”

He scoffed and the two women paused to stare at him.

“I am not spending my night off anywhere but my room, as there are frankly too many episodes of Downtown Abbey to catch up on.”

Breanna and Lois turned towards each and began to giggle, watching as Alfred shook his head and walked off as regally as ever.

“He’s certainly a character,” Lois quipped.

Breanna nodded and began leading the way again.

“You would not believe the snark. Sometimes I wish I could just turn him loose on the reporters instead of saying anything: no offense.”

“None taken,” Lois waved her hand.

When they reached Breanna’s spacious room Lois put her suitcase on top of the bed. She began pulling her stuff out as Breanna disappeared into the bathroom. She came out with a small hand towel pressed again the back of her neck, mouth opened as if to say something. She froze when she saw what Lois was holding. Not a dress, though she could see some dark red fabric peeking out. No, it was a large glossy picture of Batwoman, Gotham’s defender. Lois had an eyebrow raised and her other hand resting on her hip.

“What’s that for?” Breanna asked, recovering quickly.

“I’m not dumb, Bre, you know that. When were you going to tell me?”

Breanna’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but she forced a smile.

“Tell you what? That I’m dating the Bat?” She laughed but the seriousness on Lois’ face did not go away.

“A little hard to date yourself but if that’s how you want to play it the fine.” She laid the picture down on top of Breanna’s dress and proceeded to pull out her phone from her pocket. She flicked it open and tapped the screen a few times before walking around the bed.

“You return to Gotham after a having disappeared for two years, and less than 12 months later the Bat is first seen. You never advertised this, it’s not on your Wikipedia page, but you not only have a complete bachelor’s in business management but also history, forensics, and criminal psychology of all things. It took some digging but apparently, you have received instruction from some of the top martial artists in the world, and must be proficient in at least nine different languages with the friends you have in 20 different countries.”

Lois paused, raising her eyebrow again.

“Your pictures in the tabloids and the most-used stock photos all have you looking the same, but in person it’s obvious that they’ve been touched up to take away some of your muscular definitions, and it’s a well-known secret in the makeup artist world that you wearing padding on your chest to give the illusion of having bigger boobs than you really do _and_ you have a few scars on your shoulders that require concealer most of the time.”

Lois looked back down at her phone, scrolling a little, and Breanna collapsed in one of her armchairs that faced the room while still providing a view of her balcony.

“You have always voiced your support of the current Commissioner, James Gordon, and the Bat seems to be an ally if not a friend of his. Also, when you were targeted by the Joker a few months ago, Batwoman did not show up like she did at some of the other victim’s residences.”

Breanna stared at her friend with wide eyes, frozen in the silence before letting her head fall into her empty hand. She rubbed her face while the hand holding the now-wet towel clenched into a fist.

“Is it really that obvious?” she mumbled.

Lois laughed a sharp honking noise, and curled up in the other arm chair.

“Obvious? That took me close to a year to put together, and I never would have thought to except for some of the things you said in our first interview that sounded eerily similar to what others were saying when talking about Batwoman.”

Breanna glanced at Lois, narrowing her eyes.

Lois gave her a look that screamed “What?” and raised her shoulders.

“I’m an investigative journalist. It’s what I do.”

Breanna fell back into the chair and closed her eyes.

“I know.”

They were both silent, both thinking before Lois shifted her feet to underneath her body.

“I’m not going to tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Breanna’s eyes snapped open and Lois felt that something had shifted from the Breanna Wayne she knew to whoever this was in front of her.

“Oh? Why not? It would be the article of the century, better than anything you have ever written.”

Lois pursed her lips and crossed her arms.

“I’d never be able to write anything better, afterward, either. Besides, I think what you’re doing is important and it’s not my place.”

Breanna starred at her for a little bit longer before shoving herself out of the chair. She began to pace, half of her steps in the light from the balcony window-doors, the other half in the shadowed contrast of the wall. It was while she was in the shadow that she stopped, turning to face Lois better.

“I believe you,” she said at last, her voice serious.

Lois rolled her eyes and stood up, putting her hands on her hips again.

“I’m so glad,” she said sarcastically and walked back over to her suitcase. She carefully moved the picture of Batwoman—of Breanna—to the other side and continued to take out her things for the gala.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…I’m not used to having friends and with this secret I—”

Lois interrupted her.

“It hasn’t been easy making any, I imagine. Not without feeling like you’re lying to them the entire time.”

Breanna nodded and Lois stopped, her hands full of red material.

“The world needs its heroes, and some cities more than most. Gotham wouldn’t know what to do with Superman just like you wouldn’t know what to do with Metropolis. I hope this crusade of yours works out in the end. Gotham could use a little more light.”

Breanna swallowed and nodded. Lois closed her eyes and looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath.

“For heaven’s sake, Breanna, look at us. You’re a vigilante, a superhero, at the age of 23 and I’m just a journalist for a newspaper at 26.”

Breanna moved to lean against the edge of her bed, smiling again.

“I wouldn’t say just a journalist. You do have a Pulitzer to your name after all.”

Lois grinned, her blue eyes sparkling and the tension that had been present gone from the room.

“I do, don’t I?”

Bre nodded.

“That’s more than Clark can say.”

Lois laughed and they began to get ready.


	10. Chapter 2: Enter Last Son of Krypton B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breanna Wayne is turning 23 years old. It has been 4 months since Batwoman fought the Joker. While getting to know someone new at her birthday party, the contraption the media has taken to calling the Batsignal (thanks a lot, Gordon) lights up the sky. In the name of safety, Breanna sends her guests home and dons the cowl—only to run into the Man of Steel himself just a few hours after taking care of the situation. It turns out they’re both looking for the same thing, and Breanna reluctantly agrees to work with him for just this case.

Close to two hours later and they walked out into the hallway, just 30 minutes before the gala was supposed to start. One of the people working for Ms. Iverson had directed a very shocked delivery boy to the upstairs at one point when the two women had ordered pizza. Even though there was going to be food at the party, it was considered rude to eat too much and it was not uncommon for guests to eat a small meal on their own beforehand.

Now, however, there was no reconciliation image of the two women messily eating pizza in sweats and t-shirts just an hour or so ago. Lois was wearing a dark red gown with no fancy beadwork or design on it. The neckline was cut close to the base of her neck, and instead of a regular sleeveless cut where the fabric would just end at her shoulders, it came in with a sharp point accentuating her shoulders. It was a little longer than floor-length and her shimmery gold heels peeked out with every other step that revealed toenails that matched the color of her dress. Her black hair was pinned back, the ends gently curled.

Breanna’s dress was a lighter fabric but just as dark but a blue rather than red. There was a slit that showed some cleavage and from the front that seemed to be it but the back was a rather sizeable cutout that stopped just above her hips. Her hair, with its natural curl, was pinned in a half-up-half-down look that showed plenty of her back’s skin. Her dress was the same length as Lois’ but with her extra two inches on the woman, her silver heels were visible with every step. Her toenails, like Lois’, matched the color her dress.

Where Lois wore a simple sparkling silver chain on her left wrist and a pair of gold and diamond earrings, Breanna had a thick, dull, silver bangle on both arms. A set of slim silver rings—just individual bands—on a few fingers added to the look, and her earrings were like a sheet of glowing silver that hung to just above her shoulders.

Their makeup was simple, the most attention paid to their sharp eyeliner and false eyelashes that had been placed masterfully. They were giggling, whispering to each other as they walked into the foyer. The door was open, and the event planner stopped her conversation with the head of security to stare at them for a moment. She excused herself quickly and caught them before they walked into the ballroom.

“Miss Wayne! Miss Lane!”

They both stopped, waiting for her.

“If I may say, you both look gorgeous tonight,” she began with a rushed breath. Breanna smiled, and Lois thanked her.

“Before you two enter the ballroom and truly finish preparing for tonight, I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday Miss Wayne.”

Breanna smiled again and put a hand on the woman’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Racheal. This wouldn’t have been the same without you. Remember, once all the guests have arrived, you are more than welcome to join us. You look stunning yourself.”

Breanna gave the woman a once-over with her eyes and ignored the light blush that it brought forth on her dark cheeks.

Lois made a face at Breanna as they turned and walked into the ballroom. Breanna ignored her as well and waved at the quartet who were warming up. They would be performing throughout the night, and Breanna was finally feeling herself get excited. She had not allowed herself to celebrate her birthday in many years, and when she had it was more for others than for her own enjoyment.

 

Less than an hour later and everyone was there, even those with a tendency to show up fashionably late. Breanna greeted all of her guests with the courtesy her parents had instilled in her before their passing, and it was with a twinge in her heart that she made small talk with a few old family friends. It was with partial relief that she noticed a tall blonde man stumbled his way in her direction.

“Excuse me, if you will Mr. and Mrs. Hendrickson. I have a friend to see,” she said with a smile. It was with a forced air of joviality that Breanna greeted Oliver Queen. He for once did not ignore her hand as it was stuck out in a handshake, and they both squeezed a little tighter than necessary.

“Ollie, good to see you well!” She said.

“Not as good as it is to see you, Bre.”

“How are things in Star City? Business going well?”

He nodded, eyes sweeping behind her.

“Things are pretty swell, even with Queen Consolidated. What about here, in Gotham? How’s Wayne Inc going?”

Breanna pulled her hand back, making a show of rubbing it on her dress.

“Gotham is Gotham, as always, and we’re about to change it to Wayne Enterprises soon.”

His eyebrows shot up as he redirected his attention back to her.

“Really? That’s an odd change.”

Breanna shrugged, grabbing two flutes of champagne as a server walked back. She handed on to him and took a sip before replying.

“It was time for a change.”

Before either could say something else, Lois appeared, towing someone as tall as Oliver over behind her. She grinned at Breanna and more or less pushed her into space next to Ollie. He had hair just as dark as Lois’ or Breanna’s, and blue eyes as well, but his face was smooth and handsome in ways Oliver’s was roguish. He wore a pair of glasses that Breanna immediately saw as fake, but as he nervously pushed them back up on his nose she recognized him as Clark Kent, a writer for the Daily Planet. Or, as Lois often referred to him, Smallville.

“Breanna, Mr. Queen, this is Clark Kent.”

As Oliver shook Lois’ offered hand, Breanna couldn’t tear her eyes away from Clark’s. He smiled at her and cleared his throat. When they shook hands, it wasn’t like when Oliver had tried to squeeze the life out of hers. His grip was gentle, and his hands were barely calloused. It took an extra second to fully pull her hand back but she swallowed before speaking.

“Wonderful to finally meet you, Clark.”

He flashed a smile that Breanna couldn’t help returning.

“Thank you for inviting me, Miss Wayne. Happy birthday, by the way.”

Breanna shook her head.

“Please, call me Breanna, and thank you.”

Oliver barked a laugh and Breanna turned to face him.

“That’s right! It’s your birthday, that’s why we’re here. Happy birthday, Bre! Maybe now that you’re older you’ll stop being so serious.”

Breanna closed her eyes and didn’t care that she was visibly losing her patience with the man. Lois’ suppressed laughter didn’t help and Breanna opened her eyes to see a waiting Oliver sharing a look with Clark.

“Tell me, Ollie, how long have you been back? Three months? Five?”

He narrowed his eyes at her and took his time answering.

“It’s been close to a year now.”

“Ah,” she said, raising a hand to brush against her chin. She turned to face Clark and Lois. “You see, Oliver here was presumed dead five years ago when his father’s ship was lost at sea. He was quite the party animal in his prime, but I never shared the same tastes.”

Oliver quirked his lips.

“Seems like you still don’t.”

He clapped his hands together.

“Well, with that, I think I’m going to find a different crowd to hang with. Ladies, Clark,” and with that he was gone. Breanna let loose a sigh and put a hand to her forehead.

Lois couldn’t stop herself anymore and let out a pealing laugh, and Clark looked back and forth between the two women.

“Am I missing something?” He asked, not unkindly. Breanna waved a hand at him.

“No, it’s no secret that Oliver and I have never gotten along. I’m sorry that you got somewhat involved in that, Clark.” He shook his head, pushing his glasses up on his nose again.

“No need to apologize.”

Lois glanced between the two and slung an arm around both of their shoulders, bringing the three of them awfully close—Clark was taller than Breanna and Breanna was taller than Lois.

“C’mon, let’s find somewhere better suited to talking.”

 

Ten minutes and three conversations later the trio finally found their way to the breakfast table in the Manor’s kitchen. It was a diner-like booth that curved so as to accommodate more people, while out of the main walkways of the rest of the kitchen. Breanna was sipping from a glass of almond milk, listening to Lois recount one of her funnier incidents that resulted in yet another rescue from Superman. Breanna laughed, moving her glass farther away from her face, and tried desperately not to snort. When they all calmed down and it was quiet, the heiress turned to face the newcomer.

“So, Clark, tell me—is Smallville really as small as Lois makes it sound?”

Clark glanced at his colleague with an exasperated expression. She just shrugged her shoulders and took a long drink from her glass of water.

“It probably isn’t if Lois has been exaggerating again. There’s a lot of farms so geographically wise it’s not so tiny but it’s the population that really makes the name match the place.”

Breanna nodded once and leaned forward.

“Did you grow up on a farm, then?”

Lois snorted and they looked at her.

“Bre, you’re looking at the most country boy you could hold to find this far north.”

Clark rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat, swirling the water in his glass.

“I’ve adapted to city life fairly well,” he met Breanna’s eyes. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?” She asked, and he winced.

“There have been a few mishaps over the years,” he started. Lois chortled and sat forward.

“He just isn’t as lucky as me and doesn’t have Superman picking up after him.”

They all laughed, the conversation continued for another twenty minutes. It ranged from the differences between small town and big city life to the differences between Metropolis and Gotham. The topic had just turned to Batwoman and Superman when Alfred appeared behind Breanna.

“Miss Wayne, what is the point of hosting such an elaborate party if you yourself do not attend?”

Breanna leaned back, tilting her head so that she was looking at her surrogate father upside down. She grinned and he felt a twinge in his heart; it wasn’t often she was happy without some sort of regret or heavy air degrading the emotion.

“But Alfred, what’s the point of having a party if you can’t sneak away?”

He rolled his eyes and walked around the back of the booth, sliding in to sit next to his charge. She scooted over slightly, giving him more room, and he rested his hands on top of the table. Lois smiled at him.

“Alfred, this is Clark Kent. He works with me at the Daily Planet.”

Clark stood up just enough so that he could reach across the table and shake Alfred’s hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Pennyworth.”

“The pleasure is all mine, and please, call me Alfred. I enjoy reading your articles, especially the culturally focused ones.”

Clark blushed a little, a light pink that dusted his entire face.

“Ah, thank you, sir. I never really got to travel as a kid and so when work sends me anywhere I’ve never been I try to learn about the culture, local and national, and end up writing an extra two articles.”

“Tell them about that time you almost ended up married to a chieftain’s daughter in the Amazon,” Lois elbowed him, grinning.

Clark groaned but Breanna didn’t let him get away with telling the story.

More time passed and eventually, Alfred nudged the three of them back out into the foyer, which had some people mingling but not nearly as many as were still in the ballroom. It was while they were there talking that Breanna noticed something that made her entire countenance shift. Lois noticed first and followed the young woman’s gaze through the windows over the door.

“Oh,” she said softly, and soon everyone in the foyer was also looking out at the Gotham skyline. The Batsignal was lit, throwing the shadow of a stylized bat against the permanent cloud cover. Breanna sighed and put a hand against her temple. Lois gave her a look, and she shook her head.

“I guess it’s time to send everyone home,” she said mournfully. Clark turned back to look at her, no longer as distracted as he had appeared the last few seconds.

“Why? If the Bat’s signal is up wouldn’t that mean it’d be safer to keep everyone here?”

Breanna shook her head, already turning towards the ballroom.

“The Batsignal goes up whenever the commissioner wants Batwoman’s help, and if could be something as little as information on a case or as big as the Joker showing up again. It’s better if my guests are safe at home than here, a potential target regardless of what is happening.”

Breanna took swift strides into the ballroom and it was obvious by the hushed chatter that the party goers had also noticed the light in the sky. She signaled the quartet and they paused their playing. It took almost a full minute but eventually, she had everyone’s attention. She took a deep breath and grinned, making sure to look at the entire room.

“Thank you, everyone, so much for coming and helping me celebrate my 23rd birthday. It has been wonderful chatting with each other and catching up with some amazing refreshments and spectacular music,” she nodded at the servers standing together and the quartet that was already packing up their instruments.

“I’m afraid, though, that in the interest of safety, it is time for everyone to go home. There’s no rush but I wouldn’t want anyone to get stuck here should something happen in the few minutes.” There was a polite scattering of laughter and the chattering picked up again. This time, the entire room had a lighter feel to it as the guests each began to shuffle their way towards the front doors.

Breanna turned to face Lois and Clark, sighing.

“Anyone out in the gardens will be found by security in the next few minutes and sent on their way as well. Can Lois and I walk you out, Clark?”

The man exchanged a quick look with his colleague before nodding.

“Of course, thank you again for inviting me.”

As they walked out, Breanna smiled up at him. The height difference wasn’t severe enough that she was craning her neck, but it was obvious enough that she was grateful for her heels.

“No, thank you for coming! I’ve heard so much about you and read enough of your articles that I knew that I had to meet you.”

Clark smiled, that light blush covering his face again.

They stood outside, on the brick roundabout that circles the foundation 30 yards away from the front door. Lois gave her coworker a quick hug and Breanna shook his hand and they said their goodbyes. He walked off towards the valets with a wave and the two women turned to go back inside. They had their arms looped together and were silent as they watched the rest of the guests file out.

As soon as the cleaning was started by Ms. Iverson’s people Breanna was heading towards her study. Lois followed her, not quite sure what she was supposed to do. As she followed her younger friend into the room, Breanna locked the door behind them. Alfred was already standing there, waiting by the tall grandfather clock. He nodded at them and reached up to rotate the hands into a specific arrangement—12:17—and pushed the center, and with a low rumbling the clock swung out, revealing an elevator. Lois knew her mouth was hanging open but she couldn’t help it.

Breanna smirked and put her hand on a scanner. When it flashed green the door to the elevator opened with a quiet hiss and she stepped inside. She gestured for her friend to follow, and Lois eagerly stepped inside.

“I will take care of Ms. Iverson and her people, Miss Wayne. Expect me on the comms as soon as I am done.”

Bre nodded and pushed the down button. The door closed and they began to go down. It was when they stopped that Breanna spoke again.

“Welcome to the Cave, Lois.”


	11. Chapter 3: Aliens, Hedgehogs, and Bats Oh My A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois is introduced to the Batcave, and the long-awaited for meeting occurs between Batwoman and Superman. She is less than impressed, and really doesn’t like having him in her city. The search for hedgehogs continues and reaches a climax, not without Breanna having to get past some of her own hangs up (or at least acknowledge them).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…long time no see folks! Long LONG story short: I went on a mission, ended up learning I have severe depression, came home early, and found that writing is a huge help to my mental health, and got over some writer’s block concerning this chapter. Personal note over with. 
> 
> This chapter is longer to reward y'alls patience :D enjoy! There's a note at the end concerning this work

It was with awe that Lois stepped out of the elevator, following Breanna down the steps from the elevator to the main floor. The inky darkness stretched in front of them but with each step sets of lights went on around the cave. There was a large open area at the base of the stairs that lead to a circular out-crop. To the left the bright white lights illuminated a large raised mat, high-tech looking targets, a few punching bags, and some other odd contraptions that Lois knew she was going to have Breanna show her. To the right was a huge computer with a spinning bat symbol, one large screen and many other smaller ones surrounding it. A chair sat in front of it, high-backed and attached to a line or rail of sorts that went from one end of the computer to the other. Stairs behind the training area lead up to another level that stayed dark, and stairs on the other side of the computer lead up to an area also dark.

“Wow,” she said, taking the time to turn around in a circle when they reached the bottom of the stairs. Breanna spared her a glance and kept walking.

“I’ll be right out,” she called as she stepped into an alcove that looked like the entrance to a bathroom. Moments later she reemerged in the Bat costume, her cowl hanging down, showing her face and hair. Lois moved forward and raised her hands, running them over Breanna’s shoulders and arms.

“Is there padding? It’s obviously not skin-tight everywhere.”

Breanna gently brushed her friend off, blushing slightly.

“There’s no padding, I just bind my chest. There is some armor though, giving the illusion of bulk a man would have.”

She walked over to the computer and pressed a few keys. She turned just enough to be able to watch Lois out of the corner of her eye.

“Did you do that on purpose? Dress as a man in a bat costume?”

Breanna groaned, pausing in her motions.

“Don’t get me started on that. I just wanted to be ‘The Bat’ but Alfred and Lucius think that it’s not a dilemma that people know I’m a woman.”

Lois hummed and moved closer, trying to keep track of what was happening. Images flashed across the main screen of the computer and finally what could only be camera footage of the whole city took up every screen.

“If you want, you can be on comms tonight and watch—don’t say anything. Alfred usually runs HQ as Agent A from here but it’ll take him a few more minutes to get down here.”

She pressed a button on her utility belt and bright lights lit a portion of the cave Lois hadn’t even noticed. With a low rumbling a car moved forward and she whistled.

“That is a beauty,” she said lowly. Breanna grinned, her eyes wide and bright.

“That’s the car. She’s my pride and joy.”

Breanna started to walk towards the car but stopped, clearing her throat. She pulled up her cowl and coughed a few times before the voice synthesizer took effect.

“I’ll be going now.”

Lois rolled her eyes and forced a hug out of her friend who stood still in shock for a second before returning it.

“Be careful,” Lois said sharply.

Breanna flashed a small smile at her friend and quickly turned to enter the car.

 

When Breanna reached the tallest roof closest to her destination she paused. She knew the commissioner would be waiting for her but she wasn’t expecting _him_ , the Man of Steel himself. She heard their voices first and would have cussed if Alfred wasn’t already on the comms. She took a deep breath and waited a beat before falling silently to the roof below her. It wasn’t a far drop but she knew that she had to have made some small sound. When Superman kept talking and didn’t turn around she decided right then and there that he was as much of an idiot as she had thought when examining the information she had on him.

She moved silently so that she was standing next to the two men. She saw when they both noticed—Gordon first—as Superman jumped back, floating, while Gordon just nodded at her. Superman’s eyes had instinctively begun to glow red but the light faded to a bright blue. She turned to face Gordon.

“Glad you could make it, Batwoman,” he said. She narrowed her eyes at him; this behavior wasn’t normal. It was when she saw how his eyes flickered to the alien that she understood.

“I’m here now.”

She continued to ignore Superman even though he was fully facing her and smiling, having extended a hand.

“I was just telling our guest the latest information on our special case. More chemicals stolen, more hedgehogs from pet stores and different homes missing, and our esteemed Dr. Thomas Éclair has not been seen while his money is still steadily decreasing in various amounts.”

Breanna turned to face Superman finally and stared at him for a second. His smile was the first thing to drop, followed soon by his hand. Superman’s jovial expression turned serious, but still never fully lost it’s general…happiness. He was handsome, in a classic kind of way with his lightly tanned skin and strong features. His alien biology, however, did not lend Breanna to thinking more than just that of his outward characteristics. A fleeting thought that he looked familiar ran across her mind.

“Nice to meet you finally, Batwoman.”

“What are you doing here?”

The Man of Steel smiled, this time a tighter smile than before, before replying.

“I’ve been petitioned by many of Metropolis’ citizens to look into their disappearing pets and my search has led me here. I was hoping we could team up to get to the bottom of this, as it looks like you’re investigating the same kinds of problems.”

Breanna thought for a second.

“No.”

She turned back to Gordon and handed him a flash drive, while he handed her one in returned and nodded, walking to turn off the Batsignal.

“Wait…what?” Superman followed her as she walked towards the edge of the roof.

“I said no. I don’t work with anyone,” Breanna growled at him.

“The comms unit in your ear would imply otherwise,” he said. When Batman turned around it was to see Superman sulking as if he were a child. Well, maybe that wasn’t fair. He was visibly upset by her lack of trust but if anything seemed more mature by the unhappy emotion. Breanna shook herself mentally—she did not need to be evaluating Superman’s attractiveness while talking to him. She did not need to be evaluating his attractiveness at all, in fact.

“Do you really think I have the kind of time and opportunity to hold a cell phone while doing my job?”

Superman’s face turned thoughtful for a moment.

“That makes sense actually.”

Breanna rolled her eyes and was about to lift her arm to grapple away when Superman flew so that he was floating in front of her.

“Batwoman, just this once. Let’s help each other. We are not the only people protecting our cities, far from it, and it would be good if we could at least work together.”

Breanna didn’t wait before responding.

“No. No teams. Get out of my way and get the hell out of my city.”

She shot the grappling hook and swung off into the night. As she landed on another roof Alfred spoke up.

“I believe I raised you to have better manners than that, Batwoman.”

“This is my city, Agent A, not some tourist destination or playground.”

“You still could have been nicer, that was Superman himself” Lois chimed in. Breanna groaned and put a hand to her forehead.

“I don’t need his help, and I don’t want it. End of story.”

She stood up, looking down over the street below her.

“Tell me what you have, HQ.”

 

That night, Breanna stopped plenty of crimes but got no further on the hedgehog case. Someone, for some reason, was stealing all of the hedgehogs in both Metropolis and Gotham. Age, gender, species, whether it was a pet or not, none of the varying factors mattered to the thief (or thieves). The only thing that had Breanna truly worried about the situation was the fact that the same thieves were also stealing copious amounts of seemingly unrelated chemicals on a weekly basis.

Breanna returned to the Cave late that night, to find Lois watching a movie on one of the smaller screens of the computer, surveillance footage from the hottest points in Gotham rotating on some of the other screens. Once the Batwoman suit was put away, the two women retreated up to Breanna’s room for their sleepover portion of the night. An old chic flic played in the background as they broke out a deck of cards and played a variety of games. It was close to 3 am when they started to wind down, the movie already over.

“So, what did you think of Superman?” Lois asked, giving Breanna a side eye. The woman was silent as she thought out her next play.

“He’s annoying.”

Lois laughed, a kind of gasping noise that made it clear she didn’t believe her friend.

“You meet the hero of Metropolis, Superman himself, and all you can say is “he’s annoying”.” Lois shook her head, quickly putting a card down.

“I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to say,” Breanna said, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe comment on how handsome he is or how tall he is, or how polite he was.”

Breanna stared at Lois. Finally, she put all of her cards down and stood, walking back over to where she had paced earlier when Lois unveiled her identity. She spoke as she paced, and Lois leaned back against the bed, watching in amusement.

“Fine, I’ll admit, he was polite enough—aside from that fact that he was in Gotham without my invitation. And yes, his blue eyes and black hair looks very attractive even in the dark but I still don’t understand what the hype is about him. He’s an alien! His fighting is sloppy and leaves the civilians around him at risk, and he is the complete opposite of subtle. Besides, if I wanted to, I could have easily taken him out he was so unobservant.”

Lois coughed, and Breanna stilled while she was taking a breath, as if to keep talking. Her cheeks were burning a bit and she sat back down, wrapping her arms around her knees.

“Gotham is _my_ city, _my_ home. No one understands it like I do, and no one can save it like I can,” she said quietly. “He can fly and has all of these powers that I know next to nothing about. I know he’s supposedly all good and great, your newspaper calls him a hero all the time, but I don’t know if I can trust someone so…foreign.”

Lois sighed and scooted over to put an arm around Breanna’s hunched shoulders.

“I don’t know how much this means but I’m pretty close to Superman. I know who he is when he’s not in the suit, and I can promise you that he is a good man. If he’s not good at working in the shadows then that’s because Metropolis doesn’t have that many shadows. Gotham is very different from her sister city, which means that you have to be different too. But give him a chance and he won’t disappoint, even if he may get on your nerves.”

That last statement was made almost as an afterthought, Lois grinning at Breanna and squeezing extra.

Breanna scoffed but ultimately conceded. A few minutes later they were finishing their game before going to sleep. They both got under the covers of Breanna’s king-sized bed, not cuddling but not on completely different sides of the bed. They teased and giggled until finally they were both asleep.

 

The next night, Lois having gone back home early in the morning, Breanna found herself waiting on her favorite gargoyle on the Gotham City Cathedral. There was history and symbolism behind it, and memories from Breanna’s childhood. It was also a well-known spot for her to be sitting at different points in the night. It was an incredible vantage point for observing the city, and if it added to her image… Hence why she was not surprised when a man in a bright blue and red came floating down from the sky next to her. She turned to face him, crossing her arms. He spoke first, rubbing the back of his head.

“I know you said to get out and that you didn’t want my help but I thought I’d come back, try again. At the very least, if you’re okay with sharing some information, do you know what’s happening to the hedgehogs?”

Breanna waited, narrowing her eyes at him. When he was visibly uncomfortable she spoke.

“Whoever has them is experimenting, genetically modifying them somewhere here in Gotham. A few of the former pets have been found, dead, with obvious signs of DNA manipulation.”

Superman grimaced and floated a bit closer, looking anywhere but at Batwoman in a painfully obvious manner. She almost snorted to herself about it; after all, was he frightened by her or simply trying to humor her? Maybe Lois had spoken to him that day, the reporter had mentioned that she was close to him in and out of the suit.

“That’s horrible. Are you sure it’s happening here?”

Breanna nodded and focused on not moving back to put more distance between them as he hovered even closer. There was still at least a foot between them and he showed no signs of any sort of ill-will. He opened his mouth to speak again but Breanna cut him off.

“If we’re going to work together—just this once—we’ll need to set some ground rules.”

Superman’s mouth closed and opened again, and for a few seconds his face was blank. Then he started to grin and if she wasn’t focused on certain things (like how he’s an alien, or the fact that people’s hedgehogs were disappearing and worse) her heart would have begun to flutter. She was not infallible to a handsome face, as much as she would like to have pretended.

“Alright, shoot.”

She took a deep breath and turned to face him fully.

“No names, no exchanging of identities. This does not make us friends. When in Gotham you follow my rules whatever they may be whenever I choose to inform you of them. If you have a case that moves here it becomes mine, and before you enter city limits ask my permission first. I’ll extend the same courtesy when it comes to your city.”

Superman nodded, smiling.

“I can handle those rules. Even if I was rude and tried to peek at who you were, the lead in your mask blocks my X-ray vision. And how am I supposed to contact you in those situations?”

Breanna was nothing if not prepared and lifted her fist to him, waiting till his hand was ready to catch what was in it. It looked like a clicker or some sort of emergency device. He lifted it up to his face and examined it as she spoke.

“If you press the button, it’ll signal me no matter where I am. I’ll contact you from that point.”

Superman smiled at her, nodding.

“Understood, Batwoman. Now, where do we begin? It’s time to get these hedgehogs home.”

Breanna couldn’t agree more, but she wasn’t sure it was for the same reasons. After all, the sooner they solved the case the sooner she got the alien out of her city.

 

As she collapsed into her chair in front of the computer, a dry British-accented voice echoed behind her.

“Was your night a success, Miss?”

Breanna pulled her cowl off and rubbed a still-gloved hand over her face.

“No, Alfred, it wasn’t. Even with the famed Man of Steel’s help we got no further in finding Éclair and were only able to rule out a few locations.”

Alfred appeared next to her, offering a tray with a small sandwich and a glass of water. She gratefully lifted a hand to grab one half—it was cut into triangles, as always—but he moved out of the way and raised his eyebrows. She sighed but smiled.

“It’s not like I have blood on my hands this time.”

Alfred gave her a pointed stare and Breanna grumbled.

As she took off her gauntlets and was finally allowed to pick up half of the sandwich, Alfred straightened his back. Once she had food in her mouth he put the rest of the tray down in front of the keyboard.

“I expect that finished and put away before you retire for the night,” he said as he started to head back up to the manor. Under his breath, he added, “Sometimes I wonder just how much of you is really an adult.”

“I heard that!” Breanna called after him, turning her chair around. Alfred did not pause in his forward motion.

“And heaven forbid the day I hide yet another dry remark from you.”

Breanna grinned as she turned around, taking yet another bite of the sandwich.

 

The next night when Breanna went on patrol again Superman was already waiting for her. Floating above her favorite perch on Gotham’s Cathedral, he was looking out over the city. It wasn’t until she cleared her throat that he acknowledged her presence, causing her to wonder if he had even noticed her approach.

“It’s such a beautiful city when you forget about all the horrible things that happen here,” he said quietly. Breanna stopped mid-step, her breath frozen in her lungs. She had often had that same thought herself, on quiet nights when she could just look out over her city.

“Éclair is hiding in an abandoned warehouse off of dock 17” she gruffly said instead. Superman turned to look at her, his face open and trusting.

“Does that mean we’re ready to stop it tonight?” He asked eagerly. Having spent the previous night with him patrolling on what turned into a more or less quiet night, Batwoman begrudgingly admitted that she had a better understanding of the Kryptonian. What bothered Breanna more than the lack of information while out on the streets was that people had seen them together and all day the internet and news sources were speculating on the apparent team up.

“No.”

If she wasn’t worried about why Dr. Thomas Éclair was experimenting on hedgehogs, she would have been slightly amused at his expression. It reminded her of a puppy that had just been kicked, or a child being told that their favorite author was not going to write any more books. She pulled up her arm and tapped a few buttons. Below them the car roared, and the pedestrians out even at this time were surrounding it in awe. Phones were snapping and even from the top of the cathedral she could hear their murmurs.

“Why not? If we know where he is why don’t we just stop him right now?”

Batman turned to Superman.

“If we go in guns blazing without any preparation or prior knowledge other than the fact that he has been experimenting on hedgehogs and where he is, we could be severely out matched. Besides, our purpose right now isn’t just to stop him—it’s to rescue the animals.”

Superman crossed his arms over his chest, and the playfulness Breanna thought she had seen, a light-hearted face she was just now realizing was a mask, melted away in seriousness.

“My x-ray vision will take care of the missing information. Any more excuses? I want to be able to return these animals to their homes, just like you said.”

Even though she knew he couldn’t see it, she raised an eyebrow at him. The tone he had used had turned almost mocking. Breanna imagined that if she had feathers they would have been sufficiently ruffled at this point.

“You want to give tortured and possibly deadly animals to children?”

Superman started to sputter, the shadow of seriousness now gone again. Breanna rolled her eyes—something she knew he saw when there was a noise of indignation—and leapt off the building. Before she could fire the grappling hook, however, strong arms caught her and pulled her against a firm chest.

“Let. Go. Of. Me.” She growled each word, her body so stiff that she was sure it would snap at the slightest breeze.

“I’m sorry,” he said without any remorse. He lowered her down on one of the gargoyles they had just passed seconds ago.

“I’m used to having to catch people,” his voice and face portraying nothing. Nothing at all in the way of emotion.

“You acted without thinking and breached my personal space.”

“So, what, if you were in danger and needed help you wouldn’t want me to save you?”

“I will never need your help and you will never need to save me.”

“Geez,” Superman flew back a foot, his face reflecting not hurt but shock mingled with pity. “I can see why you don’t want me around.”

Breanna felt herself bristle and restrained herself as much as she could. Batwoman wasn’t supposed to display a wheel of emotions. She was supposed to instill fear and respect into others.

“I don’t need your help, and Gotham is my city. That’s why I don’t want you around.”

Superman pursed his lips and Breanna sighed mentally to herself. She didn’t want to antagonize the alien who was capable of destroying her with a single look but she also had no inclinations to become best buds with him, the latter increasing every minute.

“Let’s go,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to work hard on writing ahead so that I have something to post on a regular basis, so sorry but don't expect an update for about a week and a half. And updates will probably be pretty sporadic until October as I'm traveling a lot for the next 4ish months. But! I went through and edited all the previously posted chapters to fix some continuity issues like how Batwoman is known as a woman and Batwoman. This fic? I'm in it for the long-haul so do not worry. I have lots and lots of plans, and big ones.


	12. Chapter 3: Aliens, Hedgehogs, and Bats Oh My B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois is introduced to the Batcave, and the long-awaited for meeting occurs between Batwoman and Superman. She is less than impressed and really doesn’t like having him in her city. The search for hedgehogs continues and reaches a climax, not without Breanna having to get past some of her own hangs up (or at least acknowledge them).

Superman was hovering just outside her driver’s door when the car came to a stop a block away from the warehouse. As she leaped out of the car, her cape clinging to the ground as she stood from her crouch, she ignored his still semi-glowering expression.

“Use your x-ray vision to scan the building. I need numbers of people, hedgehogs, and general layout. I have blueprints but they don’t tell me furniture and any recent additions since this all began.”

Superman turned in what Breanna knew was the exact direction of the warehouse and his eyes seemed to glow for a second before he turned back to her.

“There’s only one person whose height matches Éclair’s. There are some hedgehogs, roughly 25, and next to no additions from the original blueprints.”

Batman nodded and Breanna turned to raise her arm towards the closest roof. Before her grappling hook could fire, though, Superman sped in front of her. He met her eyes for a second before sighing, running a hand through his hair.

“I wanted to apologize, for earlier,” he started. Breanna looked at him and found she didn’t know how to react as he continued to speak. He still didn’t seem remorseful but he did seem and sound genuine.

“I shouldn’t have allowed my instincts to take over, and I’m sorry for how I reacted. I breached your personal space and you were well within your rights to be upset with me, even if it was a …abnormal reaction.”

Breanna opened her mouth and spoke before she could stop herself.

“I’m no Lois Lane but you most certainly are a Boy Scout.”

She took one step to the side, fired her grappling hook, and left the grinning alien standing there on the street. Her heart fluttered and she mentally scolded herself, refocusing on the task at hand. After all, there were hedgehogs to save.

 

Batwoman stopped in a crouch, peering over the edge of the building she was on. Below her she could see the warehouse that hopefully, Éclair was in. She was categorically considering her options when it came to entry points when Superman gently landed next to her.

“How do you propose we go about this next bit? It is your city after all,” he said, no malice or bitterness in his voice.

Breanna thought about it for a moment longer before standing and turning around to face him. She considered the Man of Steel, eyes going up and down his body, mentally evaluating the footage she had studied of his fighting style, all the while ignoring his uncomfortable shifting under her scrutiny.

“It wouldn’t hurt to surprise him, but we also don’t want to risk hurting the hedgehogs. Hedgehogs who we have no idea what they could be capable of.”

He nodded in agreement but didn’t say anything. For a brief moment, Batwoman was pleased—he seemed to understand that she wasn’t done talking even though she had paused. Breanna quickly squashed that feeling and continued.

“I’ll go in first, covertly. When I signal you then you can come bursting in in your Metropolis manner.”

Superman nodded, smiling. Breanna found herself pausing for a time to admire it: his teeth were all perfectly straight, after all. And like she had acknowledged before, it wasn’t as if she was completely immune to an attractive man, human or not.

 

Batwoman was crouched where she had landed in the shadows, having slipped in through a window of the other side of the building from where she had just been planning with Superman. The warehouse was fairly empty, except for large crates and boxes piled in random places throughout, and except for where in the center of the open floor where there were tables in a rectangular formation, some with multiple cages with hedgehogs in them, some with various containers of different substances. On one table was a deep tub that was opaque on the sides. It was in this tub that Éclair was shining a flashlight into, leaning over it. The light from the flashlight in his hand cast shadows of a hedgehog within, the animal scrambling back and forth and in various circles, snorting and puffing. He murmured something to himself and then turned partially to write something down in a binder off to the side.

Éclair reminded her of a hedgehog a little, with close to the scalp and thick hair, a small button nose, and small dark eyes. He took a step back from the table and put a hand under his chin, tapping his index finger on his round cheek. He went back to the bin with the hedgehog in it and shined a different flashlight into it, this one emitting a warm red light instead of the normal white light.

Batwoman stood and moved closer, staying low to the floor, sickening curiosity getting the better of her. While she was still what she would have normally considered out of sight, pausing in the shadows, the hedgehogs seemed to become aware of her presence. As one, each of the animals in their cages turned silently to look at her. They were definitely not just hedgehogs anymore, at least, not all of them. The animals on the far table seemed to be normal from the outside, while the ones closest to her were the most different. The seemingly “normal” hedgehogs lost interest in her presence quickly and went back to doing hedgehog things, while the ones that had obviously been experimented on stayed focused on her.

One of them was…purple? But fluorescent and neon, the seeming glow coming from within the former pet, not the outside as if it had been painted. She narrowed her eyes, scanning the rest of them—one was tinier than it had any right to be, probably no longer than her thumb. Even for smaller species of hedgehogs, that was abnormal. Extra abnormal was the fact that it was lazily floating around its cage, almost like a bumblebee. There was one cage that was darker than the rest, and the hedgehog in it didn’t have any spikes, it’s skin was smooth and there were wings…were those batwings? She suppressed the various emotions that that evoked.

She swept the warehouse with her eyes one last time and determined that there was no one else there. She paused, not quite sure how to signal the man waiting outside but ended up shrugging and whispering into the air.

“Now, Superman.”

 

“Now, Superman.”

He gave himself a small smile, and looked up the side of the building, evaluating. He flew up and back some before bursting forward, both fists out in front of him. He exploded through the wall, seeing through the dust that none of the debris landed on the tables or Éclair himself. The man had screamed a rather undignified sound, arms and a leg coming up in a vain attempt to protect himself.

The Man of Steel floated down until he was a few feet away from the hedgehogs and the hedgehog-napper had relaxed, somewhat. He could hear the man's heartbeat still racing and quickly scanned for Batwoman. He couldn’t see her until he used heat vision and saw her on the other side of the warehouse.

“Superman! Wh-what are you doing here?”

“Thomas Éclair, you’ve been abducting hedgehogs from innocent children throughout Metropolis and Gotham. And you’ve also been experimenting on them—theft, animal cruelty. I’m here to take them back to their homes.”

The man on the floor scoffed, fiddling with something behind his back.

“Maybe half of them could return to their homes. The rest you really wouldn’t want to put in the hands of children again. Or anyone, really,” he grinned, a glint in his eyes.

He whipped out a remote-looking object and pointed it at Superman but even as he pressed one of the buttons a batarang came from Batwoman’s direction (not that Éclair knew she was there) and stuck in the thing. Sparks flew as it landed on the ground, the man emitting a high-pitching whining sound as he bent over his now wounded hand, blood dripping from it.

Superman frowned but said nothing as Batwoman leaped into the air and flew into the middle of the tables with Éclair. But something had already changed in the hedgehogs, the ones that had visibly been experimented with. They were now staring at the Kryptonian still in the air, all of their eyes a bright red and fixated on Superman.

He just grinned.

“Uh oh.”

 

 

Batwoman begrudgingly stood next to Superman as they watched the squad car pull away with Éclair safely confined in the back. Gordon watched too, before walking closer to them.

“So, what happens now?” He asked, one bushy eyebrow raised in wry curiosity.

Superman glanced at Batwoman—they hadn’t exactly discussed past this point in detail. Normally he wouldn’t have even concretely thought of anything until this point anyway.

“The normal ones we return to their homes,” she growled, no anger behind it.

“And the no longer normal ones?” The Commissioner prodded.

“We’ll figure that out,” she replied stiffly.

He simply nodded and waved farewell as he walked over to his own car.

Superman turned to Batwoman once they were alone and together they walked back into the warehouse. He quickly counted how many of each animal there were, enhanced and non-enhanced.

“We only have to find homes for 5 of them, after all. I’m assuming you know where the rest belong?”

“I do. I’ll deliver the ones that belong in Gotham and you can take care of the ones that came from Metropolis. As for the special hedgehogs, are you in any position to take on a pet?”

Superman turned to her, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“What?”

Even though he couldn’t se her eyes he somehow knew she had rolled them at him.

“You heard me.”

He hmmed and considered them. There was the one that was tiny and resembled a bee in manner, the bright purple one, the one with bat wings (Superman had to bite his lip to not laugh at that, eyeing Batwoman out of the corner of his eyes as she examined each of them), one that outwardly seemed normally but the cage it was in was labeled “really very extra super strong”, and immediately to it’s right, in a cage with some sort of glass around the outside of it, that was labeled “laser vision”. He flew over to stand next to Batwoman who had stepped back from the table.

“I can’t really take any of them, to be honest,” he admitted, “my identity and home isn’t conducive to having an enhanced hedgehog there. It barely works for me,” he laughed ruefully.

Batwoman didn’t make any acknowledgment that she had heard, just continued to stare at the animals. Finally, after a few minutes that seemed longer than they were, she spoke.

“I can take the super strength and laser vision ones, they’ll be safe and hidden with me, and I have an acquaintance of sorts who can take the bumblebee one, perhaps also the others. Even if she can’t she’d be more than capable of finding suitable homes for the others.”

“Who is she?” Superman asked—he had lost the mental battle within himself and asked that question rather than making a quip about the Dark Knight not keeping the bat hedgehog for herself.

“You’ve met her a few times, Wonder Woman.”

Superman nodded, before pausing and turning.

“Wait, you’ve interacted with Diana?”

Batwoman turned to face him.

“No. I have my means though and will easily enough be able to get in contact with her.”

“I can take them to her myself, we’ve worked together more than once and it’ll be a good excuse for catching up.”

She shook her head.

“I’d like to do it, take the opportunity to introduce myself to another…”

“Another hero?” He prodded.

“You both are easily heroes. I’m not.”

“Why, because you work in the shadows or because you’re a normal human?”

Batwoman didn’t answer him, just turned and started walking towards the exit of the warehouse. Superman sped to her side, keeping pace as she went to her car.

“Batwoman, you have to communicate at least some with me. Why don’t you consider yourself a hero? And why don’t we both meet with Wonder Woman? That way I can introduce you in a non-combative environment, and she’ll be more prone to trust you.”

Batwoman paused and turned just enough that her profile was clear to him.

“Fine. I’ll go about it your way, Superman. Just don’t expect me to stay for the tea party afterward.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...there you have it! Batwoman and Superman have met, Breanna Wayne and Clark Kent have also met, and soon two will become three. Sorry this update took me longer than I said it would, I got a job and to be honest kind of forgot how long it'd been.


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